


The Time Traveler's Soulmate

by klembek



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Martin is the soulmate, Misogyny, Slow Burn, being cowards, the time traveler is Andres, which is - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:48:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25055674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klembek/pseuds/klembek
Summary: ‘I know future you. And future you knows past me.’Even Andrés had to admit, it sounded strange. But on the other hand, it wasn’t entirely impossible. Not for him.Martin met Andres in 1981. Andres met Martin in 2007. It's rare, but it happens if one can travel through time.Inspired by 'The Time Traveler's Wife' by Audrey Niffenegger.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa & Professor | Sergio Marquina, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote, Palermo | Martín Berrote/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> See the translation into Russian [ here ](https://ficbook.net/readfic/9635068)

_Chrono-displacement – an inherited disease that causes time travel. People suffering from it travel to the past events important to them or their loved ones. Only one in every 800 000 people suffers from it. Despite numerous tries, the cure hasn’t been found to this day.  
\- Medical Terminology Dictionary, Madrid, 2007 _

5th November 1981, Buenos Aires

‘Alright, let’s try again.’

Martín nodded and corrected his fingers on the guitar’s strings, sticking his tongue out in concentration.

‘One, two, three.’ He heard his dad’s voice and started playing. He had been trying to learn this song for over a week now. He could play the opening and verses pretty well, but the chorus was much faster.

‘Now careful,’ dad said as he came close to the ending of the first verse.

_Bm, A, G, Bm, A, G, Bm, A, G,_ Martín repeated in his thoughts while putting his fingers on the right strings.

Bm

A

G

‘Yes! Bravo!’ his dad shouted. Martín smiled when he ruffled his hair. ‘I’m proud of you!’

They heard the door opening and the sound of high-heels on the floor announced that Mrs Berrote was back home.

‘Mum, mum!’ Martín put the guitar away, jumped off the sofa and ran to the corridor. He heard the woman sigh before she turned to look at him with irritation.

‘I did it! I can play the chorus now!’ he said, not discouraged by her reaction.

‘That’s wonderful, Martín,’ she said, but the tone of her voice wasn’t happy at all. She walked past him, straight to the living room.

‘I need to talk to you,’ she said to dad. Martín felt his stomach twist, happiness at his newest achievement suddenly gone. Dad looked at him and smiled.

‘Martín, go play outside before dinner,’ he said calmly, even though Martín could see tension in his eyes. Martín nodded and walked out of the house.

He headed to his favourite part of the garden on the northern side. Trees and bushes grew there uncontrolled by anyone, which made it a great hiding place. Mum was always complaining about it, telling dad to find somebody who would make the garden presentable, but no such thing ever happened and Martín couldn’t be happier about it.

He sat between plants, knowing that nobody would see him even if they walked really close. He wrapped his arms around his legs and waited. He tried no to think about what his parents would fight about this time. Was it about him or dad’s job again? Mum didn’t like that he worked at a school. She was often calling him lazy for not trying to find a better-paid job.

Suddenly, he heard something. He stood up and held his breath, listening carefully. For a moment, nothing happened and he was willing to think that it was just a bird or a squirrel, but then the sound repeated itself.

‘Hello?’ he asked, not sure if he should run away or try to find out who the intruder was.

‘Martín? Is that you?’ He heard the voice coming from his left.

‘Don’t move or I’ll call my dad!’ Martín warned though every muscle in his body burned, screaming for him to run and not look back. His parents had warned him against the strangers. He was supposed to call for help if somebody unknown started accosting him.

‘Alright, I won’t,’ the voice said. ‘Is he fighting with your mum again?’

‘How do you know?’ Martín felt curiosity taking over him.

‘You once told me that when they did, you would sit in the garden.’

‘I didn’t tell you anything! I don’t know you!’

‘Not yet. But you will.’ Martín frowned, too confused to reply. That gave the voice time to continue. ‘I’m a time traveler, Martín. You and I are friends in the future.’

‘Time travel isn’t possible,’ Martín said, crossing his arms. He wasn’t stupid.

‘I can prove to you that it is, but you have to see me. May I come closer?’

Martín thought about it for a moment. He shouldn’t agree. He should call dad. On the other hand …

‘Yes,’ he said finally.

The bushes moved. Martín tensed, ready to escape the moment the voice turns out to be someone dangerous. He saw a tall man come out through the bushes. He was wearing an expensive suit that reminded Martín of his mum’s colleagues. He was clean-shaven, his hair was short and black, his eyes dark. He flicked leaves from his jacket and trousers and only then looked at Martín with a smug smile as if waiting for a compliment.

‘What’s your name?’ Martín finally asked.

‘Andrés.’

  
6th April 2007, Palermo

Martín left the bar with the pleasant warmth of another body pressed against his. He felt a little dizzy, but not enough to not be able to walk. Still, it was nice to have Jeremias’ muscular arm to lean on.

Tomas and Luciana, his colleagues, had just got engaged and it was something to celebrate. Martín had almost lost hope for that, expecting to listen to Tomas’s self-loathing monologues and Luciana’s whining till his dying breath. Not to mention that he and the office’s main gossiper, Miguel, had made a bet a few months ago and Martín really didn’t want to owe this crawler 50 euros. Fortunately, Tomas took pity on them all, plucked up the courage and popped the question.

Now, Martín was gay, but that didn’t make him hate all heterosexual couples (though some of their problems were simply ridiculous). Luciana was a surprisingly fun person to be around, considering the fact that she was a woman and Tomas was his friend. Not his best friend, but still a friend. So when they invited him and his new boyfriend to celebrate their engagement at their favourite bar, he agreed.

‘I’m happy for you,’ he said frankly to Tomas when Luciana went to the toilet and Jeremias was smoking outside.

‘Thanks, man,’ Tomas replied, clapping him on the shoulder. He leaned in as if he was about to tell Martín a secret. ‘Honestly, I was afraid that she would say no. I don’t know what I would have done then.’ His eyes became dreamy and Martín wanted to laugh. ‘She’s all I’ve got.’

‘C’mon, don’t be a baby.’

‘I’m serious,’ he insisted, his eyes wide. ‘You don’t feel the same with Jeremias?’

Martín thought about it for a minute. They met three months ago but had been dating for only one. Jeremias was funny and caring. He worked at a newspaper, writing articles about local events but his real passion was the cinematography, which led them to many interesting discussions. In addition to that, he was well-built and knew what to do in bed, but could he really compare that to Tomas and Luciana’s four years old relationship?

‘We’re just taking things slow,’ Martín shrugged. ‘It’s not like you confessed your feelings to Luciana the moment you met her.’

Tomas growled when Martín started to remind him of the first few months after he had met the woman. He literally wasn’t able to talk to her without stuttering. It was truly a miracle that she fell for him.

Luciana came back, Jeremias soon after her and they resumed their talk about Miguel’s assumed affair with the boss.

Two hours later Martín decided to leave. Jeremias had an interview the next morning and Martín didn’t want to stay alone with a freshly engaged couple. He couldn’t believe that it was queer people who were considered horny all the time.

‘My place?’ Jeremias asked before they walked out of the bar and Martín nodded, smiling. 

Both of them had been busy this week and hadn’t seen each other since last Sunday. Usually, a break like that meant that they wouldn’t even make it to the bedroom. And now they were also a bit drunk. Martín couldn’t wait.

But the moment he set foot on the pavement and looked around, his heart skipped a beat. He forgot about Jeremias’ arm around his shoulders and the things he wanted to do with him. All thoughts were replaced with joy almost too big for his body.

Martín felt a smile creep onto his face as he stared at the man on the other side of the street. He would recognize him anywhere. The way he walked like he owned the world, the ridiculously expensive suits he wore (that evening accompanied by a hat), the charming smile he gave to the group of attractive women that were passing him. Martín hadn’t seen these things for so long that now he was truly overwhelmed by them. The only thing Martín wanted to do now was to run to that man and spend as much time as possible with him before he disappeared again.

‘Is something wrong?’ he heard Jeremias’ voice in his ear.

‘I’m sorry, I have something to do.’ Martín didn’t tear his gaze away from the man’s silhouette. He slid out of Jeremias’ embrace. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’

‘You’re sure everything’s alright?’

‘Yeah, tip-top.’ Martín ran towards the walkway.

‘Andrés!’ he shouted, but the man didn’t seem to hear him. The light was still red when he disappeared behind the corner.

‘Fuck it.’ Martín ran onto the street without looking. He saw a car getting closer out of the corner of his eye and sped up, barely avoiding being run over. He heard a car horn and a stream of slurs but didn’t stop.

He jumped on the pavement and rushed in the direction where he last saw his best friend.

‘Andrés!’ he shouted again once he noticed him. Why didn’t he turn around? He must have heard him. ‘Andrés, wait!’

He was almost there when Andrés turned left, into a dark alley. Martín followed him without a second thought. His blood turned cold when he felt someone grab him by his throat and push him against the wall. He automatically grasped the attacker’s hand, but he was too weak to free himself.

‘How do you know my name?’ Martín saw a pair of dark eyes shining dangerously in the street light. The voice was quiet and sharp, nothing like Martín remembered it.

‘Andrés, what ...’ he gasped out and felt his legs getting weak as Andrés squeezed his throat, making it almost impossible to breathe. He would have fallen if it wasn’t for his friend’s body that kept him pinned against the wall.

‘We’ve met before,’ Martín said weakly. His vision became blurry, his head was heavy. ‘I’m your friend.’

‘Where I come from, people have to know each other to be friends. And I don’t know you.’ The spark in Andrés’ eyes made Martín think that he would strengthen his grip and suffocate him right there and then. Honestly, that’s not how he had imagined their first meeting.

_First meeting._

His mind cleared for a moment. He let go of Andrés’ hand and reached into his pocket.

‘I know future you. And future you knows past me.’

Andrés stared at him for a moment as if he was trying to see if he had been lying and then let Martín go. Martín gasped for air, doubling over.

‘What’s your name?’ Andrés asked after a moment. His voice was emotionless and Martín had a strange feeling that his need for oxygen was pathetic to him.

‘Martín.’

‘Martín what?’

‘Berrote.’ He was finally able to straighten up and look at the man in front of him properly for the first time. He was younger than Martín had ever seen him and the way he looked at him, provocatively and with suspicion, was so strange to him that he started to wonder if he hadn’t been mistaken.

_No, that’s impossible. Andrés can’t be mistaken for anyone._

‘Well, I’m sorry for scaring you,’ Andrés finally said and turned to leave.

‘That’s it?’ he choked out in shock. ‘You’re just leaving me?’

‘What can I say, life is cruel.’ The man didn’t even turn around to look at him. The shock was immediately replaced with anger.

‘Hey! You’ve forgotten something!’ Martín shouted and threw the man the wallet he had been hiding between his hip and the wall. Andrés turned around and caught it gracefully. Martín saw the spark of realisation as he recognized his property. He looked at Martín, his eyes scanning him from head to toe. He had almost forgotten how it felt to be under his intense gaze. He saw the corners of Andrés’ lips rise characteristically, one of them faster than the other.

‘Fair enough,’ Andrés said, took something out of his pocket and tossed it towards Martín. He stared at the shape in his hands and recognised it as … his own wallet. His eyes widened.

‘Who taught you that?’ Andrés asked before Martín could say something.

‘You,’ Martín replied truthfully.

Andrés threw his head back and laughed.

‘Alright. Let’s go,’ he said, still amused.

‘What? Where?’ Martín frowned.

‘We might as well eat while we talk.’

‘Right now?’

‘You have something better to do?’

Andrés started walking, not bothering to check if Martín followed him.

_Now I see the similarity_ , Martín thought, catching up with him.

Andrés  


Some may say that Andrés overreacted and he would call them fools for that. He was a thief, after all, he had more enemies than friends. Besides, how would they react if some strange man almost let himself get hit by a car while chasing after them?

Then again, some might say that Andrés was crazy if he believed what the man had told him. And he worried that they could be right.

‘I know future you. And future you knows past me.’

Even Andrés had to admit, it sounded strange. But on the other hand, it wasn’t entirely impossible. Not for him.

He remembered his first time travel very clearly. He was sitting on the stairs, listening to his parents arguing. They usually did that after his mother’s return from wherever she had been, but this time his father came home later than usual, drunk and started to shout. Andrés didn’t hear the beginning of the fight, but as the voices got louder and louder, he lost interest in the book he was reading and walked out of his room.

‘I can’t do this anymore!’ That was father’s voice. ‘It’s too…’

‘Come on, say it!’ Mother’s tone was challenging, but Andrés spotted a little sob in it.

‘Weird!’

Andrés frowned. What was too weird for father? Suddenly, he felt his hands shake. He looked at them, confused, only to notice that his fingers were gone. He stood up abruptly, as his hands continued to disappear. His heartbeat quickened. He opened his mouth to scream and then he was falling. Everything went black for a moment and the next thing he saw was the building of the National Prado Museum. It was a sunny day, people all around him. He looked around terrified. His mind was racing, thoughts and questions mixing together, not making any sense. And that was when he noticed his mother and … himself, walking inside the museum.

‘Mum!’ he shouted, but then the trembling in his hands came back and suddenly he was back in his house. His parents were still arguing, but he wasn’t interested in eavesdropping anymore.

He ran to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He jumped on his bed and covered himself with a blanket. He didn’t know how long he had been lying like that, trying to calm down, but he must have fallen asleep at some point. When he woke up, his mother was lying next to him.

‘Did something happen?’ she asked him when he hugged her tightly. He didn’t respond.

‘Andrés, you know you can tell me anything, right?’

‘You won’t believe me,’ he insisted, still not looking at her.

‘You sure?’ He nodded. ‘Try me.’

He hesitated for a moment, but then he did, hoping she’d give him some logical explanation. He told her everything with details, how he felt, what he saw. Then he realized that the scene – him walking into the museum with mother – was oddly familiar.

‘It was almost like...’ he started, but stopped. It didn’t make any sense.

‘Time travel?’ mother prompted.

He looked at her surprised.

‘That means that you believe me?’

She did. Mostly because, as it turned out later, the same thing happened to her. That was why she was gone so often. Father used to tell him she was at a party or had to work, while she was actually … time travelling.

‘It’s called chrono-displacement,’ she explained. ‘It makes us travel in time. Until today I had hoped that you wouldn't have it.’

‘Why? Is it bad?’

‘No.’ Andrés noticed her hesitation. ‘It’s unique. The thing is … not everybody understands unique.’

A few days later, Andrés found out that his father had left them. Now everything was crystal clear. That ‘too weird’ thing meant his mother’s disease. That coward left because he couldn’t stand his wife being unique. He didn’t even come back for his things.

He often thought about his father. What was he doing right now? Where did he live? Did he regret leaving them? He tried not to show it though, not wanting to upset mother. Especially now that she was constantly scared that he would get hurt time travelling.

‘If you’re so worried, why don’t you go with me?’ he asked her one day.

‘You can’t take people with you. Sometimes you even leave things like your wallet or glasses behind. Thankfully, your clothes don’t disappear.’

Mother taught him lots of useful things. How to pick a lock, how to steal money from a random passerby, how to find a safe place to sleep, just in case he stayed in the past for longer than a few hours. He also learned that it’s easier to manipulate people if you wear elegant clothes and speak eloquently.

Time travelling had different consequences, some were small, some were big, but what had just happened was more than Andrés had ever expected.

‘Who taught you that?’ he asked, still amazed with Martín’s skills.

‘You.’

Andrés thought about it for a while. He never fraternised with the people he met during his travels, even when he stayed there for longer than usual. The fact that the man in front of him claimed to be his friend sounded like a bad joke. Nevertheless, he was able to steal his wallet, which made him pretty interesting.

‘Alright. Let’s go,’ he said finally.

‘What? Where?’ Martín frowned.

‘We might as well eat while we talk.’

‘Right now?’

‘You have something better to do?’

He started walking, curious if Martín would follow him. He smiled when he heard the footsteps behind him and soon the man was right next to him. They walked in silence and he felt Martín throwing him curious glances from time to time.

He picked one of the restaurants he discovered last week. It wasn’t luxurious, but it was still elegant and their cannelloni was just amazing. He opened the door and gestured for Martín to walk in first. He did so without hesitation.

_Interesting._

They took the table next to the window. Martín smiled at him when they were finally face to face. When the waiter showed up with menus Andrés raised his hand to stop him, eyes never leaving Martín’s face.

‘We’ll take two cannellonis,’ he said, waiting for Martín to do something, anything, in protest. ‘And two glasses of your best wine.’

The waiter nodded and walked away. Martín didn’t seem surprised, let alone uncomfortable.

‘Are you always like that?’ Andrés asked him. ‘Letting people open the door and order your food for you?’

Martín smiled.

‘I’m kind of used to it when it comes to you,’ he replied amused. ‘You took me to the best restaurants in Buenos Aires. You know, the ones where you have to wear suits to get a table.’

‘Buenos Aires?’

‘Yeah, that’s where I used to live.’ The waiter brought wine and Martín started to play with the glass. ‘I moved to Italy six years ago.’

‘Why?’

‘Work.’ The way he said it made Andrés assume that it was something more than that, but he decided to have mercy and drop the subject. For now. ‘By the way, what’s your last name?’

‘You’ve said that you know me,’ Andrés glared at him suspiciously. Usually, he was good at detecting lies, but he couldn’t work Martín out.

‘I know you, but not your last name. You’ve never told me. Probably to stop me from finding you before it’s time.’

‘De Fonollosa,’ Andrés replied after a second.

He reached his hand in Martín’s direction. The man shook it with a smile.

‘Nice to finally meet you properly,’ he said. Again, Andrés couldn’t say if he was lying.

‘So what do you know about me?’ he asked, sitting comfortably on a chair, beaming with elegance and self-confidence, but it didn’t bring the effect he expected. Martín didn’t seem intimidated, quite the opposite actually.

‘Well, you have a half-brother, Sergio.’ Martín looked up as if trying to remember as much information as he could. ‘Your suits cost more than my rent. You’re an art enthusiast and you can paint and sing. And I know that you’re rich. And why you’re rich.’

Andrés smiled mockingly. ‘Oh, do you?’

‘You told me. And then taught me how to steal people’s wallets and pick locks. Me pickpocketing you during our first meeting was actually your idea.’

‘Seems like we’ve done a lot of things together,’ he said, amusement and anger fighting for dominance inside him.

‘Yeah, sitting in the garden every time you visited became boring eventually. Not to mention that it’s not always sunny in Buenos...’

‘Wait, “every time”?’ Andrés hated the sheer surprise in his voice, but he really wasn’t expecting that. ‘You mean to say that I visited you more than once?’

‘Of course!’ Andrés hated the way it sounded. As if it was obvious and he was just too stupid to understand it.

That was it. Trying to fool him was one thing, but thinking he’s stupid enough to believe this kind of story was something he couldn’t take. Did he look like an idiot? Because there was no way Andrés had met that man more than once. He went back to the events that were important to him. Sure, he’d met his parents and Sergio during the trips, but he didn’t travel directly to them. And he was supposed to believe that he had visited this complete stranger multiple times?

_And he seemed so intelligent at first. Pity._

‘I’m sorry,’ he heard Martín say. He must have noticed Andrés’ scepticism. ‘I shouldn’t tell you these things. Nothing good comes from knowing your future. Maybe we’ll just pretend that we’ve just met?’

‘Yes, I think that would be for the best.’ It took all of Andrés’ strength to not smile. Martín was really good, Andrés truly admired his skills. From what he had observed so far, he would probably try to blackmail him or try to get some of his money as ‘a loan for a friend’ and if Andrés was any less suspicious he might have risen to the bait. He almost regretted that he had to beat the man up for trying to use him. But not until after dinner. He hadn’t dined with company for a while now and besides that, he enjoyed their little game.

‘You said that your job made you move here,’ he decided to go for a small talk. ‘What’s your job?’

‘I’m an engineer.’

‘Oh,’ Andrés smiled. Maybe they could play the game a little longer than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sposored by [ this song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JTON2_hkxFs)
> 
> Many thanks to my wonderful frowl, [ givebackmylifecas ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/givebackmylifecas/pseuds/givebackmylifecas) and [ gayglitterbabe ](https://gayglitterbabe.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

Palermo  
7th April 2007

Martín growled when his phone rang and woke him up. He reached to his nightstand and grabbed the device and answered the call, not looking who it was.

‘Hello?’ he muttered. He returned home late that night, sometime around two. After Andrés stopped throwing him suspicious looks and tensing up every time he said something, the night went better than he had expected.

‘Morning, sunshine.’ He heard Jeremias’ fond voice. ‘I wanted to check on you. You were acting strangely yesterday.’

Martín growled again and sat up. He was still in his clothes, too tired to take them off when he had come home. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure if he had locked the door either.

‘I’m fine.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘I met an old friend, we went for dinner and drank some wine.’

‘Sounds like you had fun,’ Jeremias admitted. ‘But that doesn’t change the fact that I missed you. I thought we’d spend some time together.’

‘Yeah, I know. I’ll make it up to you.’

‘Mrs Fahey will see you now.’ Martín heard a muffled, female voice on the other side of the line.

‘Of course,’ Jeremias replied. ‘I have to go. The interview...’

‘Yeah, I know. Good luck.’

‘Thanks. See you at six? My place?’

‘Sure.’

Martín hung up and sighed, lying back down. What time was it anyway? He looked at the alarm clock. Almost nine. He really should get up, eat something, maybe clean the flat. Getting groceries wouldn’t hurt either. But he was so tired. And he was meeting Jeremias today. It would be really rude to fall asleep during dinner, so maybe he should just stay in bed?

The sound of an incoming text stopped his thoughts.

_Quattro Canti. In an hour. Don’t be late._

Martín smiled, seeing the sender’s name. That was something new for him, receiving texts from Andrés. The memory of exchanging phone numbers with him made his chest warm.

_I won’t_

He smiled and stood up. First shower, then breakfast and find some clean clothes. And then meeting Andrés. Suddenly, Martín felt completely awake.  


‘Honestly, I thought you’d be late,’ Andrés said when Martín got to the place. ‘Considering the amount of wine you drank yesterday I expected to see a walking corpse.’

‘If that made you buy me coffee, consider me a zombie.’ Martín smiled at the paper cup Andrés held in his hand.

Andrés chuckled and gave him the cup. Martín took a sip. He tried his best not to pull a face, but he must have failed terribly.

‘You don’t like black coffee?’ Andrés asked.

‘I always add milk,’ Martín admitted, remembering the day he found out about it. Andrés appeared in his garden when it was raining and asked Martín for a cup of black coffee. When he asked him if he could taste it, Andrés said that he wouldn’t like it, because there was no milk in it.

‘But thanks anyway.’ He decided to drink it anyway. The walking corpse analogy wasn’t completely missed.

From the previous night, Martín knew that Andrés was in Palermo on vacation, so it didn’t surprise him that he wanted to sight-see. What did surprise him was that Andrés seemed to know more about Palermo’s monuments than an average local. He talked and talked and Martín felt like he was on a one-person school trip. Actually, he was pretty sure that Andrés was trying to impress him.

Walking around the city with Andrés made Martín see it differently. And it wasn’t just because they went everywhere on foot. So far, all he had noticed were beautiful buildings, the masterpieces of architecture. Now that Andrés talked about their history and the people who lived there with such passion, he couldn’t help but feel his rational engineering side fade away, letting him admire beauty of a different sort.

He couldn’t shake off the feeling that Andrés wasn’t completely relaxed. He seemed to weigh every single one of his words, always on edge, always wary. But then, on the other hand, Andrés was never the type who made friends easily. Of course, most people didn’t notice that, too enchanted with his flattering words, but it was always there. Something dark and cold. His smile vicious and mocking, the kind of smile your chess opponent gives you before they kill your queen. And considering that he met Martín less than 24 hours ago, he was still a complete stranger to him.

At first, Martín remembered to look at his watch from time to time, but the longer he listened to Andrés’ low voice explaining the historical complexity, the less he was aware of the time passing. It was Andrés suggesting grabbing something to eat that finally broke the spell.

‘Oh, shit,’ Martín said, looking at the watch.

‘What is it?’

‘I’m meeting my boyfriend in twenty minutes.’

‘Boyfriend?’ Martín looked at Andrés. His expression was unreadable. He swallowed hard.

‘Yeah. Problem?’ He tried to sound challenging, but he felt his stomach flip. He never expected Andrés to be a homophobe. If you think about it, he was the first one Martín came out to, sort of, and his reaction wasn’t negative. But that was future Andrés.

‘No, of course not. I just assumed that you were single.’ Andrés shrugged. ‘Where are you meeting him? I’ll walk you.’

A wave of panic flooded Martín. He shook his head, speeding up.

‘No, there’s no need,’ he assured quickly, way too quickly to sound nonchalant. ‘I think I’ll take a taxi and that’s too much of a risk for you, right? Besides, it’s far from your place, I don’t want you to waste your time.’ He was walking backwards, staring at Andrés slowly raising one eyebrow at him. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

He turned around to walk faster, taking the next right. When he disappeared from Andrés’ view he started to run. He wasn’t a fan of the activity, but putting distance between him and Andrés was his priority now.

Jeremias’ flat wasn’t that far away, but when he got there he was already out of breath. He knocked at the door, leaning against the wall. He thought that he’d spit his lungs out any moment. 

‘Jesus, Martín,’ Jeremias said when he opened the door.

‘I didn’t want to be late,’ he gasped out with a weak smile, walking into his boyfriend’s flat. He doubted he could stand on his legs much longer. He collapsed onto the couch and closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. A moment later Jeremias showed up by his side, offering him a glass of water. Martín accepted it and drank it all in one go.

‘Better?’ Jeremias asked, amused. Martín nodded, still out of breath and started fanning himself with his hand.

‘How did the interview go?’ he finally spoke up, still breathing heavily. Jeremias sat down next to him on the couch.

‘I’ve never met a more boring woman in my life. I almost fell asleep. Twice.’ Jeremias pretended to shiver at the memory. ‘How about you? What did you do today?’

‘Sightseeing.’ Jeremias frowned. ‘My friend is here on vacation and apparently wants to see every building that is more than fifty years old.’

‘What friend?’ he asked curiously. Martín knew Jeremias wasn’t a jealous type and he was just showing interest, but he moved nervously on a couch.

‘His name is Andrés. You don’t know him.’

‘Former classmate?’

‘Not quite.’ He hoped his half-answers would be enough for Jeremias to understand that he didn’t want to talk about it and stop digging.

‘So mysterious.’

‘That’s the part of my charm.’ Jeremias laughed and kissed him. He must have got the hint and moved on to another subject, not mentioning Andrés again that evening.

16th April 2007

‘Someone got laid last night,’ Miguel joked when he saw Martín entering the office humming. Martín smiled mysteriously but didn’t say anything. He hadn’t, in fact. He had spent the evening with Andrés. Just like the previous one. And the one before that. And the one before that. He had been meeting with him almost every day since that fortunate Friday he ran into him on the street. They were going out for dinners and wandering through the city and Martín felt like a teenager again. Only that this time he could drink with Andrés. Andrés, who actually talked to him, telling him about his life the way he never had in the past. Andrés, who despite Martín’s expectations, didn’t disappear, leaving him with his ordinary life again.

Now, Andrés hadn’t specified how long he was going to stay in Palermo and as much as Martín enjoyed meeting with him, splitting his time between Andrés and the other people in his life soon became exhausting. He was tired of Tomas and Luciana getting offended every time he rejected their invitation for going out for a drink and finishing meetings with Andrés early because he was supposed to spend the night with Jeremias. He liked spending time with his boyfriend, of course he did, but the temptation to cancel was sometimes almost too big to handle.

17th April 2007

‘I’m sorry, but this Andrés guy sounds more and more made-up,’ Tomas finally said.

‘He’s not made-up,’ Martín said through gritted teeth, leaning over the blueprints he was currently working on.

‘Then why don’t you want us to meet him?’ Luciana asked calmly. ‘Invite him to the bar this weekend.’ Martín almost groaned. He’d completely forgotten that he’d agreed to meet with them. How rude would that be if he cancelled now? And now they also wanted Andrés there?

‘He doesn’t really go to bars,’ he said, shrugging. ‘I can ask him, but I can’t promise anything.’

‘Great,’ Luciana said and went back to work.

Martín exhaled, not aware that he had been holding his breath. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want Andrés to meet them. Was he ashamed of him? Hell no. Was he ashamed of his friends? Also no. Introducing them to Andrés would solve many of his problems - being called a liar was only one of them. Still, the idea made him want to throw up.

‘What are you doing at the weekend?’ Andrés asked him the same day during dinner. They were once again in one of those fancy restaurants and, honestly, Martín was slowly running out of clean white shirts. ‘One of the actors from the theater owes me. He could get us tickets to any play we want.’

‘I’m meeting my friends, so…’ Martín smiled apologetically, chewing his food harder than necessary, knowing what was about to come.

Andrés raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised that Martín preferred getting wasted in some dive to watching any of the plays.

‘That’s fine, we can go any other day,’ he said despite his visible disappointment. ‘Where are you meeting them?’

Martín’s heart skipped a beat. He swallowed nervously.

‘Oh, just this bar. I doubt you’d like it. There’s just beer and vodka. And it stinks. To be honest, I don’t know why we’re hanging out there.’ His voice became weirdly high.

 _Calm down, moron,_ he thought, reaching for his glass of wine.

‘You can just say that you don’t want me to meet them,’ Andrés said, the vein of resentment clear in his voice.

Martín snorted, mostly because the fear didn’t let him come up with any other response.

‘It’s not like that,’ he said quickly. ‘I’m not ashamed of you or anything.’

‘So what is it?’

‘Just … Tomas and Luciana don’t really like new people. It took us ages to become friends.’

Andrés looked at him for a minute and raised his eyebrows, coming back to his dish. ‘Alright, if you say so.’

It took Martín all he had to not sigh with relief.

  
20th April 2007

‘You didn’t have to come here. I could have brought it tomorrow,’ Martín said when he opened the door to his flat and let Luciana in. It was Friday evening, he should go in a few minutes if he didn’t want to be late for a meeting with Andrés. But Luciana just had to come and pick up the movie Martín promised to lend her.

‘It’s fine,’ Luciana assured. ‘Tomas is meeting his friends from high school today anyway.’

‘You didn’t want to go with him?’ he asked, going to the living room. He didn’t have time to search for the movie, but it should be on the shelf with the rest of the DVDs.

‘Are you kidding me? They are just going to watch the match and drink beer.’

He shrugged. ‘I’d be fine with that.’

‘What is it with you men, that makes watching, not playing, watching somebody else play sports interesting to you?’

‘What is it with you women not liking it? You have twenty-two well-built men sweating for ninety minutes. That’s hotter than any shirtless scene in a rom-com, but you still consider it boring.’

He could feel Luciana rolling her eyes at him, but she didn’t continue the discussion.

‘I have to use the bathroom, be right back,’ she said instead.

Martín nodded, not tearing his gaze away from the shelf. He could swear that the DVD was somewhere there.

‘Found it!’ he shouted when he spotted the right packaging.

‘Oh my God, you scared me.’ He heard Luciana’s voice from the corridor.

He frowned, sure that she didn’t say that to him.

‘My apologies.’ He heard Andrés’ deep voice. He grabbed the DVD and rushed to the corridor.

Luciana was standing next to Andrés, giving him a bright smile. One look at the man was enough to inform Martín that he had appeared in his flat because of time travel. He automatically studied his friend’s appearance. He couldn’t be older than in his late forties.

‘You didn’t say you had a visitor.’ Luciana looked at Martín, but her eyes soon returned to Andrés again. She reached her hand. ‘I’m Luciana.’

Andrés, the complete flirt he was, kissed her hand, which made the woman’s eyes widen in surprise. Martín would roll his eyes if he was able to think clearly for a single moment. So far all his mind was saying was ‘Shit, shit, shit, shit.’

‘Andrés. Pleasure to meet you,’ his friend said with a charming smile.

‘Oh, so you do exist! We thought that Martín made you up to brag about his social life.’

‘He’s that kind of guy, isn’t he?’ Andrés looked at him with a vicious smile.

‘I don’t know if he told you,’ Luciana said, oblivious to Martín’s prayers for her to shut the fuck up, ‘but we’re meeting tomorrow – Martín, my fiance and me. Come and join us.’

Andrés looked at Martín who slightly shook his head and sent him a warning gaze. He just smiled innocently.

‘Alright, I’ll be there.’

‘Great.’ Luciana grinned at him.

‘Ok, that’s enough.’ Martín was finally able to move. He walked to Luciana and forced her out of the flat. ‘Thanks for stopping by. Here’s your DVD, have fun, bye.’

He closed the door before she could respond to that. He turned around to shout at Andrés, but the corridor was empty.

_Hijo de puta._

‘You’re an asshole, you know that, right?’ he said when he met Andrés half an hour later.

‘Excuse me?’ Andrés was smiling, but Martín could see something dark in his eyes.

‘You showed up in my flat when Luciana was there.’

‘Well, you know I can’t control my travels,’ Andrés replied, immediately understanding what he meant.

‘Yes, but she invited you to the bar. And you said yes.’

Andrés just stared at him in silence.

‘Well, I’m not going to apologise,’ he said finally like it was the most obvious thing in the world. ‘Technically, I still haven’t done that.’

Martín snorted, shaking his head. Andrés was unbelievable.

‘But look on the bright side,’ Andrés pointed out. ‘If she invited me, that means that she is alright with meeting a new person.’

Martín gritted his teeth. He didn’t think about that.

‘I guess so,’ he admitted reluctantly.

‘Great. Send me the details. Now, let’s go. There’s this restaurant ...’ 

They started walking, Andrés explaining why the place they were going to was so special. Martín just nodded from time to time and hummed in response.

_Shit, shit, shit, shit._

21st April 2007

Martín almost hoped that Andrés had forgotten about the meeting when he was late for fifteen minutes. But he should have known better than that. That son of a bitch just wanted to have a great entrance. And he did, of course he did. One minute Martín was talking to Luciana about the movie he’d lent her and the next he heard Andrés’ deep voice above his head.

‘I’m sorry I’m late. I’m still learning to navigate the city.’

Martín looked up to give Andrés a gloomy stare. Tomas and Luciana may have swallowed it, but Martín was smarter than that.

‘No problem, we get it. I’m Tomas.’ The man stood up offering his hand, which Andrés shook with a smile.

‘Andrés.’

‘You already know Luciana.’ Martín nodded his head in the woman’s direction.

‘Of course.’ Andrés shook her hand as well.

‘Weird, you look different than when we met,’ she said, openly staring at him.

‘All because of lightning,’ Martín said before anyone spoke up, looking at Andrés intensively. ‘It’s terrible in my flat.’

‘Yes, it is,’ Andrés admitted after a moment and sat down next to him.

  
Martín didn’t enjoy the evening. He didn’t enjoy it at all. He was tensing up every time Tomas or Luciana’s attention was drawn to Andrés, which was almost all the time. He might as well leave. They wouldn’t notice it, so preoccupied with Andrés’ stories about his travels around Europe and his work as an “art dealer”. Martín could feel his hair getting grayer and grayer with every word that escaped his friend’s mouth.

‘So how did you two meet?’ Tomas finally asked and Martín was sure he would have a heart attack any minute.

‘School. We met at school,’ he said quickly before Andrés could open his mouth. He felt his intense stare on him but decided to ignore it.

‘But you’ve said that you’re from Spain,’ Luciana pointed out to Andrés.

‘Student exchange program.’ Martín decided to continue his lie, though his brain screamed at him to shut up very loudly.

‘Really? I wanted to do that too, but my parents didn’t let me,’ Tomas said and Martín hated the pure amazement in his voice.

‘How was it?’ Luciana asked, as enthusiastic as her fiance. ‘Do you have some embarrassing stories about teenage Martín?’

Andrés looked at him with an unreadable expression.

‘Not really. He was pretty boring back then, actually. All he wanted to do was to study Maths,’ Andrés said and Tomas and Luciana laughed at that. Andrés changed the subject and they all seemed to forget the whole story. However, Martín felt that there was some strange tone to Andrés’ voice for the rest of the evening.

They called it a night eventually and left the bar.

‘We’ll take a taxi,’ Tomas decided once they were outside. ‘How about you, guys?’

‘I think I’ll walk. The city is beautiful at night,’ Andrés said. Again, Martín sensed something weird in his voice.

‘I’ll go with you,’ he said before he could stop himself. ‘So you don’t get lost.’

Andrés didn’t respond to that. They said their goodbyes to Tomas and Luciana and started walking in the direction of the flat Andrés rented.

The silence prolonged and Martín was starting to feel more and more uncomfortable. Something about Andrés was making the atmosphere so thick one could cut it with a knife.

‘Today was … exciting,’ Martín said to break the tension.

‘Mhm.’ Andrés huffed and sped up.

‘I didn’t know you drink beer.’ He didn’t give up, trying to give his voice a carefree tone. ‘So far I’d only seen you sipping your fancy wines.’

‘Seems like you don’t know that much about me after all.’

Martín raised his eyebrows. If Andrés wanted to act like a typical woman, then fine, but he wasn’t going to play this game. He knew that ignoring his weird behaviour would hurt Andrés’ ego. Good. Next time maybe he’d think about the consequences of his actions.

They walked next to each other in silence, both unwilling to speak up first. That would mean surrender, losing, being defeated.

‘I suppose your friends don’t know why I didn’t take a taxi too,’ Andrés said finally. His voice was cold as ice, but Martín smirked. Andrés had lost.

‘Of course not,’ he said.

Andrés hummed. The silence fell again. It was Martín’s time to lose.

He sighed. ‘What is it?’

‘Tell me, who am I to you? I really can’t crack it.’

‘What? What are you talking about?’

‘Oh come on, you can stop now. I should have known better than that. Who would accept me the way I am anyway.’

It was so unlike Andrés to behave like this that Martín had to replay the sentence in his head.

‘You mean Tomas and Luciana? I didn’t know you were okay talking about your disease. You had always told me to not tell anyone about it!’

‘That doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t want me to meet them. You think I didn’t notice the way you behaved all evening?’

‘Alright, you’re being ridiculous right now.’

‘Oh really?’

‘Yes!’ he said, but he knew Andrés had a point. He opened his arms. ‘Ok, I guess a part of me didn’t want to share you with anyone.’

‘I’m not a toy you can share with your friends or not. If that’s the way you treat your boyfriend...’

‘What’s the matter with you today, hmm?’ Martín cut him off. Now, that was a behaviour he knew. Classic I-will-insult-the-shit-out-of-you Andrés. Something was wrong. ‘Because it’s impossible that I’m the only one responsible for your whining.’

Andrés looked away and for a moment Martín thought that he wouldn’t speak up.

‘I’m leaving for Berlin next week.’

‘Oh.’

_Of course. He’s always leaving._

‘I have to plan the journey. Avoiding motorways and big cities, sleeping in some dingy motels. It’s exhausting really.’

Martín obviously knew all of this. Once he stopped being amazed at the fact that Andrés could time travel, he started to ask him about different aspects of his life. Chrono-displacement was a bitch for someone who didn’t like staying in one place. He remembered Andrés wandering through the streets of Buenos Aires, well aware that it was his only chance to see the city.

_How cruel of the world, taking the pleasure of traveling from a man like him._

‘I could go with you,’ he said, without thinking twice. It was Andrés for fuck’s sake. If he could help him, he would do it. ‘It’d be much faster if we were taking shifts while driving. We wouldn’t have to stop so much to rest.’

Andrés smiled at him.

‘Well,’ he said. ‘Then we are leaving for Berlin.’


	3. Chapter 3

Rome  
25th April 2007

‘Want to rest a bit? ’ Andrés asked when Martín yawned for the fourth time. He really didn’t want to end up in a ditch.

‘No, I’m good.’ Martín shook his head to make the tiredness go away and fixed his hands on the steering wheel. ‘It’s my turn. And if we stop now, we won’t get to Rome before rush hour. I’m not going to block off the whole city because you disappear on some busy street.’

Andrés couldn’t argue with that. They planned the route very carefully, choosing mostly local roads, using the most popular ones only early in the morning. In moments like that he hated his illness. How much more pleasant travelling would be if he could just get onto a plane or a train. Even using a motorway would make his life easier.

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he admitted and returned to his book.

‘Though we can talk. I guess that would help me stay awake,’ Martín said and looked at him with a playful smile. ‘Or maybe you’d prefer to read to me?’

‘I doubt you’re interested in the original version of “Crime and punishment’’.’

‘You’re right, I’m not.’ Martín’s face lit up. He bounced on his seat and Andrés wondered if that was his plan all along. ‘So, talking it is. I’m happy to finally meet Sergio.’

‘Oh really?’ he asked, closing his book with resignation, but he couldn’t help but feel the warmth in his chest, thinking about the upcoming meeting with his brother.

‘Yeah. From what you said we have a lot in common.’

‘Ah yes. I can’t wait for you two to start talking about mathematics.’

That was actually true. He had to know if Martín was really an engineer. Yes, Andrés did his research and yes, it said clearly that Martín had a degree, but it didn’t prove anything. If being a thief his whole life had taught Andrés anything, it was that everything could be faked. Everything besides knowledge and skills. And that’s why, on their way to Berlin, they were making a stop in Rome. So Sergio could tell if there was at least a bit of truth in Martín’s words.

  
Andrés booked two rooms in one of the best hotels in Rome for them. He didn’t think of it as anything special, but the amazement in Martín’s eyes proved that the other man thought otherwise. And Andrés really wasn’t surprised. He’d seen Martín’s flat, his clothes, the bars he was going to. It was perfectly clear that he wasn’t used to luxury. Not that he would fit in there anyway with his old shirts and unrefined language.

They collected the keys and disappeared in their rooms. They still had a few hours before the meeting with Sergio and Andrés had no doubts that Martín could use some sleep. After all, it would be hard to interrogate him if he fell asleep in the middle of the conversation.

  
Andrés grinned when he saw his brother waiting for them in front of the hotel. He hadn’t changed at all, still wearing the look of a sad, old professor. Clearly, he didn’t take any of Andrés’ fashion advice seriously.

‘Would it hurt you to, for once, dress elegantly?’ he asked.

‘Would it hurt you to stop making fun of my clothes?’ Sergio gave him what most people would call a bitch face.

‘I’m just trying to protect you like every older brother does.’ He smiled and pulled Sergio into a hug.

‘You’re such an ass,’ he said, but he hugged him back.

_Speaking of._

Andrés turned around and reached his hand in Martín’s direction, ‘Meet my friend, Martín.’

Martín, who so far had stayed behind, letting them have a proper greeting, smiled amiably and offered his hand. Sergio shook it for a surprisingly long time, eyes never leaving the other man’s face.

‘Nice to finally meet you,’ Martín said, pretending he didn’t notice Sergio’s weird behaviour. ‘Andrés has told me a lot about you.’

‘Yes, I’ve heard a lot about you too,’ Sergio must have realised what he was doing and finally let Martín’s hand go.

‘Oh have you?’ Martín looked at Andrés with a surprise, amusement dancing in his blue eyes. Andrés wasn’t sure if he wanted to vomit or to punch him.

Sergio cleared his throat. ‘Are you hungry?’

‘Yes.’ Andrés focused on his brother. ‘I think we could go to that restaurant we visited the last time ...’

‘Oh no, no, no, no, no,’ Martín interrupted. ‘For two weeks we’ve been eating wherever you wanted. Now _I am_ the tourist and _I_ pick the restaurant.’

Andrés smiled, trying to hide his irritation and asked as calmly as he could, ‘So where do you want to eat?’

Martín smiled slyly.

_Punch him,_ Andrés decided. _Definitely punch him._

‘I have an idea.’

  
‘You call THIS dinner?’ Andrés asked, looking at his burger. ‘It’s a sandwich, Martín.’

‘Technically, it has everything a normal dinner has – meat, vegetables, sauces,’ Martín said, looking at his portion with desire.

Andrés snorted, looking at Sergio who stared at his burger with focus, trying to figure out how to bite it.

‘Alright, gentlemen, enjoy.’ Martín wasn’t paying any attention to them anymore. Andrés threw his meal one last disgusted look and took a bite. Next to him, Sergio did the same.

‘And?’ Martín asked with a full mouth.

‘That’s … an interesting combination,’ Sergio said on balance.

Andrés made a muffled sound when he felt a sauce drop from his mouth. He leaned in, trying to save his suit at all costs. He threw Martín a murderous look when he heard him laugh.

‘I guess we’ve finally found something you’re bad at,’ Martín pulled his phone out of his pocket. ‘I have to mark this beautiful discovery.’

‘Martín, you really don’t want to do this,’ Andrés said in his most sinister voice.

‘Oh, except that I do. Smile, please,’ Martín moved so everyone was in the frame and pressed the button. ‘Perfect.’

‘You’ll delete this.’

‘Mhmm.’ Martín winked at him and returned to eating. ‘So where are we going next?’

‘I have something to do, but Sergio will keep you company,’ Andrés said. ‘You’ll be able to talk about equations and ... other science things.’

‘You sure? We can go with you.’

‘Yes. You’d be bored anyway.’

Andrés didn’t really believe that anyone could ever be bored with him, but he wanted Sergio to be able to examine Martín’s skills. There was a chance that without Andrés around he would let his guard down a bit. Besides, with what he was planning, he couldn’t have Martín around.

  
Andrés looked proudly at the key to Martín’s room. It was surprisingly easy to steal it.

_Almost suspiciously easy._

No, Martín simply believed that Andrés trusted him and became too careless.

He went back to the hotel and walked into Martín’s room. He looked around carefully. Everything seemed perfectly normal. They hadn’t spent much time in their rooms before they went out, so the unmade bed and a suitcase were the only signs that someone was actually staying there.

Andrés heard somebody knocking. ‘Room service.’

He opened the door. The man he saw didn’t look like a hotel worker at all.

‘You should be more careful. A five-year-old could see that you’re not staff,’ Andrés said and let him in. ‘Make it quick, I don’t have all day.’

_‘Si signore.’_

The man looked around for a moment and headed towards the gable vent. Andrés decided to let him work in peace and opened Martín’s suitcase. He searched it carefully, but the most suspicious thing he found was an expired pack of gum. No gun or any other weapon.

He looked under the mattress and into the wardrobe, searched the entire room and the bathroom, but there was nothing interesting in there either.

‘Done.’ He heard behind his back. The man pointed at the gable vent. ‘I installed the camera right there. You’ll hear and see everything that’s going on inside the room. Do you want one in the bathroom as well?’

Andrés frowned. 

‘Do I look like some sort of deviant to you?’ he asked and when the man didn’t reply, he waved his hand at him. ‘Get out of my sight.’

When he was alone he cursed under his breath. Martín was good. He wouldn’t leave anything suspicious in his room. That’s why it was so easy to steal his key.

He needed to calm down, to clear his mind. He walked out of the hotel and headed to the only place that was always able to make him forget about his worries. Galleria Borghese.

Soon he felt the tension escaping his shoulders as he walked among the exhibits. Why was he so worried in the first place? Martín was good, but not that good. He wouldn’t outfox Andrés, his tiny brain couldn’t compare to his intelligence and experience.

He was startled out from his thoughts when somebody stood next to him. He felt the corner of his lips raise.

‘It’s always nice to see you,’ he said.

‘You see me every time you look in the mirror.’

Andrés looked at his older self with a smile.

‘Oh, but now that you’re here I know I don’t have to worry about Martín killing me,’ he said nonchalantly.

The time traveller looked at him mockingly.

‘I know your tricks. I won’t tell you anything.’

Andrés gritted his teeth. He hated when he was denied something. He hated it even more when the denier was him from the future.

‘Everything will be alright,’ future Andrés said. ‘Just trust me. After all, who else can you trust if not yourself?’

‘You really aren’t telling me anything? You were me, so you know how I feel right now.’ He watched his other self look around the museum for a moment.

‘I suppose I can tell you one thing.’ He pointed at the blonde on the other side of the room. ‘She will make you happy today.’

And with that, his older self was gone. Andrés laughed quietly, fixed his tie and smiled charmingly as he walked up to the woman.

  
A few hours later he joined Sergio and Martín at supper. He was surprised to find his brother laughing at something the other man said. The feeling of betrayal sharpened in his chest when he realised his brother’s smile wasn’t fake. How could he joke around with somebody who was trying to scam him? Wasn’t he a good older brother? Didn’t he teach Sergio everything he could? Or at least tried to. Didn’t he …

‘Andrés!’ Martín noticed him and grinned. Andrés smiled back, making himself look as relaxed as a man could be and approached the table.

‘I see that you two are getting along,’ he said, looking at Sergio accusingly.

‘You’ve never told me he’s this funny,’ Martín said, oblivious to the change in the atmosphere, and turned to Sergio. ‘Tell him the Pythagoras joke.’

‘No, that won’t be necessary,’ Andrés said quickly, already familiar with his brother’s science jokes.

‘Right, you wouldn’t understand anyway,’ Martín said and Andrés wanted to kill him when Sergio laughed at that.

‘Excuse me for a moment,’ Martín said and walked in the direction of the toilets.

‘It’s good to know that you and my enemy are having fun together,’ Andrés hissed when Martín couldn’t hear them anymore.

‘He’s actually very funny. A bit crude sometimes, but still funny,’ Sergio said. ‘And are you sure that he is your enemy? He seems to genuinely like you.’

‘Just when I thought it can’t get worse,’ Andrés murmured to himself.

‘No, Andrés, listen. We checked him out and we didn’t find anything. No one in the business has heard of him, he has a job, a boyfriend, friends. He seems like a normal man. And he really is an engineer or at least has one’s knowledge.’

‘Great. So he’s able to do the heist with me. And then I’ll make him regret ever trying to scam me. Because that’s what he is doing,’ Andrés took a deep breath, trying to calm down. ‘There’s no other explanation.’

  
Andrés was sitting on the bed with a laptop, watching Martín getting ready to sleep. Since they had parted in the hallway he followed his every move, heard every sound he made. And nothing. He learnt nothing. Martín’s boyfriend called, but they didn’t talk long, then Martín took a shower and now was looking through the window while brushing his teeth.

‘Come on, do something,’ Andrés murmured, but Martín just finished getting ready to sleep and went to bed. He switched the light off and soon Andrés heard his breath slow down as he fell asleep.

He closed his laptop. Martín was good.

  
26th April 2007

‘It’s a pity Sergio can’t go with us,’ Martín said the next morning when they were leaving Rome. ‘I like him.’

‘He has to work,’ Andrés said dryly, still angry that Martín was able to fool his brother. This game should be just between them, no need for civilian casualties.

‘Yes, I know. Still, I wish he could come with us.’

‘He’s not interested, you know,’ he said, hoping to humiliate Martín so much he would shut up for the rest of the day.

‘What?’

‘Sergio likes women. He’s not interested in you.’

Martín laughed and Andrés wanted to rip his lungs out.

‘Good, I’m not interested in him either.’

‘Really? It looked different yesterday.’

‘Are you jealous?’

‘No.’ Did he really think that? That he’s jealous? Of someone like Martín? He would laugh if he was in a better mood.

‘Yes, you are jealous! Aww, Andrés, that’s so cute! But you have nothing to worry about. Even if I found him attractive, and I don’t, I wouldn’t do anything about it. He’s your brother. Actually, I envy you. Having a sibling, I mean.’

Andrés calmed down a bit.

‘I’d always wanted to have a younger brother,’ he admitted, not sure why he was talking about it with Martín. ‘He’s the only good outcome of my father’s cowardice.’ 

He smiled at the memory of their first meeting after their father’s funeral. His mother was dead for a few years, he didn’t have any friends. Finding out that he had a brother was truly one of his happiest memories. ‘Why don’t you have siblings?

Martín laughed bitterly, ‘My mother never wanted kids. I’m still surprised she decided to keep me when she found out she was pregnant.’

‘And your father?’

‘Oh, he was great. He taught me to play the guitar and helped me with homework. He was a music teacher, so he was good with kids.’

‘Was?’ He noticed Martín swallow nervously.

‘He died. Cancer.’

  
They were almost in the motel they were supposed to spend the night in when Martín’s phone rang in the backseat.

‘It’s probably Jeremias. Can you pick up?’ Martín asked.

Andrés reached for the phone and then realized his hands were trembling.

‘Pull over, Martín!’ he said.

‘What?’

‘I said pull …’ he didn’t get to finish.

The car and Martín disappeared and he was standing in what looked like a hospital corridor, Martín’s now silent phone still in his hand. Andrés cursed under his breath and put it into his pocket, knowing that there would be no signal. He looked around, immediately recognizing the place. He spent so many days within these walls, he didn’t think he could ever forget it. He started walking, memories flooding his mind as he crossed the familiar corridors with Russian signs on the doors. Finally, he stopped in front of the half-closed door and looked inside the room. It could fit at least ten adult men, but there were only two sleeping boys. The smaller one was lying on the hospital bed and the other was sitting on the chair beside it. Andrés walked closer and laid a hand on the shoulder of the older boy. He felt him flinch from an unexpected touch and soon he was looking into his younger self’s eyes.

‘Easy there, kid,’ he said. ‘It’s me.’

Young Andrés yawned and stretched. ‘Which year?’

‘2007.’

‘So that’s how I dress during my mid-life crisis?’

He opened his mouth to snap back, but Sergio murmured something in his sleep and shifted on his bed. Andrés looked at himself standing up and touching Sergio’s forehead with the back of his hand. He knew that it was hot, way hotter than it should be.

‘You look terrible. Go get some sleep,’ Andrés said. ‘I’ll watch over him.’

His younger version didn’t look convinced, still looking at his brother with fear.

‘What, you don’t trust yourself now?’

He finally stood up and walked towards the door. He hesitated for a moment, but Andrés just waved at him and after a while the sound of his steps wandered off. He knew that this night he would get a proper amount of sleep in a proper bed. Something he needed very much those days.

Andrés sat on the chair and looked at Sergio. It was weird, seeing him like this again. Pale, weak, fragile. He remembered how he felt all those years ago, when he was afraid for his life every day, when he was spending all his time by his bed, talking to him, reading him books, hoping for the experimental treatment to work. He finally had a brother, finally he wasn’t alone anymore. The thought of losing that frightened him.

He took a deep breath. No. There was no need to get back to this. Sergio was alive. He got better and grew up. He didn’t die. That was the truth. It had already happened. And the past couldn’t be changed.

‘Andrés?’ Sergio murmured weakly. Andrés got up, so his brother could see him without moving.

‘Yes, I’m here, hermanito.’

Sergio froze frightened.

‘You’re not Andrés,’ he said with his eyes wide.

So that was the night Sergio found out. Andrés remembered his brother telling him that he knows his secret and asking him to explain the subject further. He didn’t ask back then, already assuming that Sergio must have come across his future self.

‘I am Andrés, just older. I’m from the future.’

‘It’s impossible.’

‘For most of the people, yes. But you see, I’m sick. It makes me disappear, go to the past,’ he said, but Sergio frowned unconvinced. ‘Think about it, hermanito. I look older than usual. And you’ve noticed that sometimes I’m gone for a few hours and I don’t tell you where I’ve been.’

Sergio looked down at his hands. Andrés almost could see little numbers in his head as he turned every bit of evidence into a calculation, the language he knew so well.

‘Am I dead? In the future?’ he finally asked, looking at Andrés with a badly hidden fear.

‘What? No!’ Andrés sat down on Sergio’s bed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. ‘Of course not.’

Sergio just nodded.

‘Hey, you don’t believe me? Look at this,’ Andrés put Martín’s phone out of his pocket. He shouldn’t do this, really. Nothing good came from knowing the future. But the fear in Sergio’s eyes ... He opened the gallery and showed him the picture from the previous day.

‘See? This is you,’ he said, pointing at the 2007-version of his brother ‘ and this is me. We’re eating burgers in Rome. To me, this happened yesterday.’

Sergio studied a picture for a while and then threw himself on Andrés and hugged him tightly. Andrés laughed quietly, rubbing his brother’s back.

‘Everything will be alright.’

Sergio pulled away and smiled at him.

‘Thank you.’

‘Just don’t tell anyone I showed you that, alright? Even me. It’s against the time travelling rules.’

Sergio nodded and looked at the photo again. ‘And who’s that?’ he asked, pointing at Martín’s happy face in the foreground.

‘Nobody,’ he answered quickly.

‘Then why is he taking the picture with us?’

So that’s why Sergio acted so strange yesterday and two weeks ago, when Andrés called him and told him about Martín. He must have remembered him. Andrés sighed.

‘His name is Martín. He’s my … colleague.’

‘You like him?’

‘He’s not bad.’

  
He came back after almost two hours. He looked around. It was dark, their car was standing on the roadside. He walked up there and looked inside. Martín was sleeping on the backseat. Andrés knocked at the window, waking him up.

‘Why didn’t you go to the motel?’ he asked, getting inside the car. ‘It’s only a few kilometers away.’

Martín shrugged and started an engine, ‘I didn’t want you to have to walk there at night.’

Andrés didn’t have enough energy to think it through. His travels were always taking great amounts of energy and he soon fell asleep.

Berlin  
28th April 2007

Berlin was just like Andrés remembered it. Beautiful. Full of people and sounds and colors. But his own amazement was nothing compared to Martín’s. His eyes were shining as he spun around with a grin on his face, soaking in the views. He looked like a child in a toy shop.

‘You’ve been here before?’ he asked Andrés.

‘Once or twice,’ he said casually, but the admiration in Martín’s eyes was actually flattering.

‘It’s amazing!’

‘Wait till I show you the best parts,’ Andrés said and started walking, already sure that Martín would follow him. He gave him a tour around the most popular tourist attractions, he told him about their history, happy with the attention Martín was paying to him. He took him to one of his favourite restaurants and watched with amusement as Martín tried to pronounce anything on the menu correctly. But they weren’t there only for fun. They had work to do.

  
‘Look around carefully,’ Andrés said, opening the door of the jeweler for Martín.

‘What are we looking for?’ he asked.

‘Anything that we like.’

They walked inside and Andrés smiled, seeing all those beautiful rings, necklaces and earrings. The prizes on the labels would make most of the people faint. But not Andrés. He had better ways to get what he wanted than paying.

  
‘Today was amazing!’ Martín said when they entered their flat and sat down on the couch together to drink the wine they bought on their way back from the evening walk. His eyes were wide with excitement and Andrés laughed.

‘You really liked it?’ he asked, ready for more compliments.

‘Liked? No, no, no. I loved it. We have to go to that restaurant again soon. And I want to come back to that stall and buy the miniature Brandenburg Gate.’ Martín leaned back and closed his eyes with a smile. ‘This tops every other trip I’ve been on.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Andrés opened the bottle, poured wine into the glasses and gave one of them to Martín. He took a sip and nodded his head in recognition.

‘Another benefit.’

Andrés hummed, putting his glass away. ‘Tell me, did you look around the jeweler like I told you to?’

‘Yes. They have really nice things, but they’re so expensive! I’m happy I’m gay. Tomas buys Luciana jewelry for Christmas AND her birthday. With prices like that, it’s a miracle he has anything to eat!’

‘You don’t always need money to get things you like.’

Martín looked at him suspiciously. ‘You mean ...’

‘If you were to rob the shop we were in today, how would you do it?’

‘Andrés, are you doing what I think you’re doing?’

‘It depends. Do you think I’m offering you a partnership? Then yes.’

For a moment nothing happened, neither of them moved an inch or made a sound. Andrés started to think that maybe he was wrong about him, but then Martín looked at him.

‘Do you have any blueprints?’ he asked.

  
9th May 2007

Martín surprised Andrés. Again. By his reaction, he was ready to assume that none of his previous scams required robbing a jeweller. Meanwhile, Martín was doing great with finding weak spots in the plan, analysing the security system and explaining the meaning of complicated equations to Andrés.

‘How do you know all this?’ Andrés asked him eventually.

‘When a friendly time traveller appears in your garden and says that he’s a thief, you get pretty interested in the subject.’

If he was being perfectly honest, he liked the past few days they spent on planning. Martín seemed to be as excited as him, bouncing on the balls of his feet and smiling at him almost all the time.

Finally, the night before the heist, everything was settled and they went out for supper to relax. They were eating slowly, chatting about music and movies and laughing at the couple sat to Andrés’ right. The woman’s make-up was enough to paint the whole room and the fact that her partner’s tie was covered in ducks … well, Andrés didn’t think this needed to be explained. They went back to the flat, still laughing.

‘You know, I wish we could stay here,’ Martín said before disappearing into his room. ‘Just a little longer.’

‘Yes, me too.’ Andrés replied, surprised how easily these words escaped his mouth.

‘Well, anyway, goodnight,’ Martín gave him one more smile.

‘Goodnight.’

Andrés walked inside his room and leaned on the door. Martín was good, really good. Under other circumstances they might actually become friends.

  
10th May 2007

The next morning brought the excitement of an upcoming heist. They planned to attack at night, but there were a lot of things to do. Finally, the sun set.

‘Are you nervous?’Andrés asked, giving Martín the gun he got for him a few days ago.

‘A bit, yeah,’ Martín admitted, hiding the weapon.

‘Good. Use it to not fuck up.’

  
Martín did everything right. He calculated everything correctly and didn’t make much noise. They got inside without being noticed and started to take everything they wanted. Andrés focused on the most valuable objects, looking at Martín from time to time. He hesitated for a moment, but then he just let out quiet ‘Oh, fuck it’ and started to pack the rings.

Andrés looked at his watch. They should really get going. He already got more things than he planned, but maybe he could get some more.

‘Andrés, we have to go!’ Martín hissed.

‘In a minute,’ he said walking up to another showcase.

‘Andrés, the alarm ...’

‘Shut up, Martín!’ he growled, packing everything in the reach of his hand.

The alarm rang furiously, making them both freeze for a moment.

‘Fuck!’ Andrés cursed, pushing Martín towards the door. ‘Let’s go!’

They ran down the street, the sound of police sirens right behind them, becoming more and more clear.

‘Split up!’ Andrés commanded when the first police car appeared from behind the corner. They turned right and after that he lost Martín from his sight. Andrés hoped he wouldn’t get lost in the maze of side streets. He had the car keys after all.

He kept on running, looking back from time to time. No one was chasing after him, but he could still hear the sirens. He smiled when he almost reached the place they left the car at. He was just behind the corner when he heard loud ‘Don’t move!’ and the sound of a gun being unlocked.

He stopped, cursing under his breath.

‘Show me your hands and turn around!’ He did, looking with hatred at the policewoman in front of him. She came closer, still pointing her gun in Andrés’ chest.

‘Hey!’ Martín’s voice cut the air. Andrés looked above the officer’s shoulder to see Martín pointing his gun at the policewoman and pulling the trigger. But nothing happened. Of course it didn’t. Martín looked at his weapon and then at the policewoman in shock. Andrés took a swing and hit the officer in the back of her head.

‘Come on!’ he said as the woman fell to the ground.

They ran towards the car and drove out of the city.

  
They’d been driving for a few hours and finally stopped at a dilapidated motel that looked much better on the Internet.

‘I don’t know why it didn’t work,’ Martín said, walking inside their double room. ‘I swear I turned off the safety.’

‘I know,’ Andrés said calmly.

‘Next time we’ll have to test the weapon.’

‘Martín, the gun worked perfectly,’ Andrés said, ignoring the “next time” part on purpose.

‘No, it didn’t. It …’ Martín looked at him suspiciously. ‘What did you do?’

‘The gun worked. I didn’t put bullets in, so it didn’t fire. Just like I wanted.’

‘You didn’t give me bullets?’ Martín hissed.

‘You should be glad I didn’t! If you’d shot that policewoman we wouldn’t have got away so easily!’

‘Why would you do that?!’

_So you could shoot me the moment we escape with the prize?_

‘It was your first heist, I wouldn’t give you a sharpened pencil.’

Martín snorted and sat down on his bed.

‘So what now?’ he asked, still a bit angry.

‘We’ll sleep for a few hours and then we go to meet the trader. We go back to Palermo and split the money.’

‘Right,’ Martín nodded. ‘Then let’s go to sleep.’

‘You really were ready to shoot her, weren’t you?’ Andrés asked.

Martín looked at him, clearly surprised with such a question.

‘Of course. She had you.’

  
Soon they turned the light off, not even bothering to change into pyjamas. Andrés breathed deeply, pretending to sleep. After an hour, when he was sure Martín was sound asleep, he stood up. He quickly put on his shoes and jacket and gathered all of the stolen things without making a noise. Finally, he picked the car keys up off Martín’s night stand and headed towards the door. He laid his hand on the handle. He froze for a moment, but he shook his head and quietly walked out of the room. He got inside the car and drove off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I love "Crime and punishment".


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read the previous chapters before 2nd February, I suggest you go reread them (I rewrote them a bit).

Palermo  
8th September 2007

‘How about this one?’ Luciana asked, taking a dress out of her closet. Martín tilted his head from his place on the bed and pulled a face.

‘No. It’s terrible.’

‘You were there when I was buying it. You told me I look hot in it.’

‘No, I said you’re sweating.’

‘And you let me buy it anyway?’ She put the dress back. Martín sighed as she continued searching.

‘Can’t you just wear anything?’ he asked, feeling his eyes closing against his will. Would she notice if he fell asleep?

‘No! It’s a very important occasion.’

‘Luciana, you’re going there to see a wedding venue. Wear whatever, maybe they’ll give you a discount if they see that you’re poor.’

‘You’re such an ass.’ She shook her head, still digging in her closet.

He looked up and wished he believed in God so he could pray for an asteroid to hit this stupid building and end his misery.

It wasn’t his fault, really. He had told Luciana million times over that he wasn’t the main-character’s-friend type of gay, but she just kept asking him for fashion advice and dragging him to the cinema to watch chick-flicks.

‘What’s the matter with you, straights, and big weddings anyway?’ he asked instead. ‘Can’t you just sign the papers? Without all these wedding venues, dresses and suits? You will be married AND have money for your honeymoon.’

Luciana chuckled. ‘I’ll remind you of that once you’re the one getting married.’

It was Martín’s time to laugh. Sweet, naive Luciana, thinking that everyone would find the one and get married.

‘What? I’m serious. You seem all boom boom ciao, but how long has your relationship with Jeremias been going on?’

Martín shrugged, ‘Six months.’

‘And why is that?’

‘Because Jeremias is good at the boom boom part?’

Luciana shook her head. ‘You may laugh, but I know that deep down you just want to be loved.’

Martín growled. All this fluffy bullshit made him feel sick.

‘Can we change the subject before you embarrass yourself enough for me to kill Tomas out of mercy?’ he asked.

‘Fine.’ She took out a dress she used as her Halloween costume last year and for a moment she seemed to really consider wearing it. ‘How’s Andrés?’

Maybe God existed after all. And he apparently hated Martín.

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted, the bitterness of betrayal hitting him all over again. ‘We haven’t spoken since the trip’

‘Weird. I thought you were friends.’ The Halloween costume returned to the closet.

‘It’s too much to say. We just know each other from school.’

‘But he took you to Berlin! You don’t do that with somebody you just know from school.’

Martín smiled sadly. ‘Life is cruel.’

It was, indeed.

When he woke up the day after the heist and found that Andrés wasn’t there, Martín just thought that he time travelled. Then he noticed the lack of the car and the prize and he got scared. He started to wonder if he would be able to somehow contact Sergio and tell him that his brother had been kidnapped. He went to the owner of the motel to ask if she saw anything last night.

‘Your friend left,’ the woman said. ‘About an hour after you arrived.’

‘Alone?’

_No other people who were threatening to shoot him?_

‘Yes. Is everything alright?’

Martín didn’t reply. He tried to call Andrés, but the number was inactive. He had been waiting for him for almost a week before he finally was able to admit to himself that he was not coming back.

‘Ok, I think this one is the one,’ Luciana said, startling him out of his thoughts. She was holding a flowery dress. It was hideous, but Martín nodded in appreciation and smiled. She’d look like a meadow on this super important day of hers, but at least this torture would stop.

‘I have matching shoes in one of the boxes in the corridor,’ she said and left the room. Martín looked at his phone when it started to buzz. Unknown number. He raised his eyebrows, but picked up anyway.

_Please, be an exotic trip._

‘Hello?’ he said.

‘We need to talk.’ 

Martín’s heartbeat sped up. Andrés.

‘No,’ he said and hung up. He declined the call that came right after that. Then there came text messages:

_Why won’t you pick up?_

_Pick up, Martín!_

_This isn’t funny._

_We really have to talk._

_I know you’re reading these. Don’t ignore me, Martín!_

_Asshole_ , Martín thought and blocked the number.

‘Who was that?’ Luciana asked as she entered the room with a pair of high-heels.

‘Nobody,’ Martín answered quickly. ‘Just a survey. I have to go, I’m going out with Jeremias today.’

He got up from the bed and headed towards the exit, not waiting for Luciana to walk him out. He needed to think without her chirping right next to his ear. He stepped out of the building and took a deep breath, trying to stop himself from breaking his phone on the pavement.

Jeremias had reserved a table in a restaurant for them. It wasn’t the fanciest one, but Martín couldn’t expect miracles for the local journalist’s budget.

They ordered food and talked about simple things. Well, Jeremias was the one who talked. Martín was just nodding and humming. He tried, he really did, but he couldn’t forget the sound of Andrés’ voice on the other end of the line.

_We need to talk._

About what? About how Andrés left him? About how he stole his part of the prize?

He was startled from his thoughts when Jeremias touched his hand.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’ Jerermias wouldn’t understand anyway. Not without the full knowledge about what had happened in Berlin and Martín might be mad at Andrés, but he wasn’t going to tell anyone that he was a criminal. ‘I’m sorry, I got distracted. You were saying?’

But as Jeremias continued, Martín again couldn’t focus on his words. Andrés occupied his mind permanently and it didn’t seem like he was going to let go. The weight of the phone in Martín’s pocket was almost unbearable.

 _Stop it. Get your shit together_ , he tried to remind himself, but it didn’t work.

‘Martín? What a pleasant surprise!’

Great, now he was hearing Andrés’ voice as well.

_Wait, what?_

He looked up to meet Andrés’ gaze. He quickly studied his face. There was no gray hair, the wrinkles weren’t visible and eyes, these eyes. Dark, dangerous, mocking. It was present Andrés, without doubts. Martín clenched his jaw and stared at him with fury.

‘You must be Jeremias,’ Andrés said, when Martín didn’t respond and reached his hand in his boyfriend’s direction. ‘I’m Andrés.’

‘Oh, nice to finally meet you!’ Jeremias’ face lit up. ‘I’m sorry that I couldn’t make it the night you met Tomas and Luciana. I had to work. But Martín has told me about your trip to Berlin.’

‘Did he now?’ Andrés asked, looking at Martín with a smile. Luckily for him, the waitress still hadn’t brought cutlery. Otherwise Martín might stab him with a knife. ‘Did he tell you all of it, though? It was a pretty long trip.’

‘Why are you here, Andrés?’ Martín was finally able to speak.

‘I’m having dinner with my new friend,’ he pointed at the woman sitting at the table by the wall. She smiled at them and waved her hand.

‘Are there no restaurants or women outside of Palermo?’

‘What can I say, there’s something special about the city. I just keep coming back,’ Andrés looked at him calmly. ‘And I hoped to meet you. I called, but apparently your phone died.’

‘It didn’t.’

‘Well ...’

‘I think you should go now,’ Martín grabbed Jeremias’ hand and looked at Andrés challengingly. ‘We were in the middle of something before you’d interrupted us.’

‘Ah, of course. I’m sorry. I’ll catch up with you later. It was a pleasure to meet you,’ he said to Jeremias and walked away to his table.

‘What was that?’ Jeremias asked when Andrés couldn’t hear them anymore.

‘What?’ Martín asked, tearing his gaze away from his friend’s back.

‘Martín, you were a dick to him.’

‘Oh, believe me, he deserved it.’

For the rest of the evening Martín felt Andrés’ eyes on him, but he didn’t look in his direction, pretending to be totally absorbed by his boyfriend. He wasn’t going to give Andrés the satisfaction. Jeremias must have noticed this obvious change in his behaviour, but he didn’t say anything.

Martín came back home alone. He had told Jeremias that he had to wake up early the next day.

He poured himself a drink and went to the balcony. He breathed in the evening air, listening to the city noise. His phone buzzed when someone texted him. Jeremias.

_You sure you’re ok?_

Martín didn’t respond. Instead, he opened the recent calls and looked for a while at Andrés’ phone number. For a moment he wanted to call him, but he quickly shook his head.

9th September 2007

The next day Martin was late for work. He drank way more than he should have last night.

Work was all he needed. He wanted to drown in the world of numbers. Numbers weren’t complicated, not in the way people were. Numbers weren’t bastards who used your friendship for their own purposes.

He entered the office and stopped dead. Andrés was sitting at his desk, a group of Martín’s coworkers surrounding him and laughing with delight at one of his stories. Vanessa, the boss’ secretary, was resting her hand on Andrés’ arm, leaning towards him and laughing so loudly that the person next to her had to lean back.

 _Why even bother wearing clothes at all?_ Martín thought, seeing her unbuttoned shirt. He could see her bra from where he was standing.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked, walking towards his desk.

‘Ah, Martín!’ Andrés smiled at him. ‘I was nearby and decided to visit you. Your friends kept me company.’

Everyone nodded with the same idiotic smile on their lips. If it was ancient times, they’d probably already have built a temple to praise Andrés. And that bastard would enjoy it.

‘Get up!’ Martín gripped Andrés by his elbow and dragged him away from his newest fans right back to the entrance.

‘What part of me not picking up didn’t you understand?’ he hissed at Andrés, pressing the button to call the elevator.

‘Oh, I understood everything,’ Andrés said, waving to Vanessa with a smile. ‘Doesn’t mean that I can’t change your mind.’

‘Yes, that’s exactly what it means.’ The elevator came and the door opened. ‘You’ve already got what you wanted. You’re not using me again.’

Andrés finally tore his gaze away from the woman and snorted, ‘Oh please. As if you didn’t try to use me as well.’

‘Wait, what? No, never mind. Whatever you want to say, I’m not interested. Now go before I call the security.’ Martín pointed his finger at the elevator.

Andrés looked at him for a moment and it seemed like he was going to argue, but at the end he just smiled.

‘As you wish,’ he said and he entered the elevator. He gave Martín one last smile before the door closed and the elevator went down. Martín exhaled and flexed his fingers. He’d give everything to punch something right now.

The day didn’t get any better. Martín’s head hurt, Vanessa kept on asking him for Andrés’ phone number and even work didn’t help him to get away from all this mess. All he wanted was to go home and sleep.

But it seemed even in his own flat it was impossible to find some peace.

The door was unlocked. Normal people with normal lives would go back outside and call the police, but Martín was never normal.

‘Did you fucking break into my flat? What’s wrong with you?’ he asked, walking into his living room to see Andrés sitting comfortably on the couch, the glass of Martín’s whiskey for special occasions in his hand.

‘What’s wrong with me? You’re the one who is ignoring me!’ he said as if it was a crime against humanity.

‘I’m not ignoring you. I’ve told you very clearly that I don’t want to talk to you. Now get out or ...’

‘Or what, Martín?’ Andrés stood up and walked towards him, invading his personal space. ‘You’ll call the police? Or maybe you’ll throw me out yourself. Oh please, do. I’d like to see you try.’

Andrés’ eyes were shining dangerously and Martín was seriously considering punching him for a moment, but he decided against it. He wouldn’t achieve anything beside hurting his hands.

‘What do you want?’ he asked finally.

‘Professionalism. I like it.’ Andrés sat back down. ‘I need you to help me. One man, a trader, didn’t want to pay me for my job. He tried to give me up to the police. I escaped, but he got the prize. I want to get it back.’

‘You mean: steal it again?’ Martín poured himself some whiskey. If he was about to plan another assault, he really needed a drink.

‘Oh no!’ Andrés waved his hand elegantly. ‘I mean a transaction. You see, he has a wife and a daughter. A few trinkets for their lives doesn’t seem like a prohibitive price to me.’

_Kidnapping. Great._

‘And why would I help you?’ he asked, taking a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving Andrés’.

‘You’ll get sixty percent of the prize from Berlin.’

Martín thought about it for a moment.

‘Seventy,’ he said finally.

‘Sixty-five.’

‘Seventy-five.’

‘That’s not how negotiations work, Martín,’ Andrés said. Martín shrugged, still looking him straight in the eyes. ‘Fine. Seventy-five.’

Catania  
10th September 2007

The trader, Raul Vacca, lived in Catania.

They set off the next day, early in the morning. Martín wanted to wait and show up at his boss’ office with a quickly made up story and ask him to give him a leave, but Andrés said that he had already taken care of that. In the end, Martín just called Jeremias and told him that he’d be gone for a while. His boyfriend didn’t ask any more questions after he had told him that he was with Andrés.

Andrés rented a two bedroom flat for them, right in the city centre. Martín looked around curiously as he entered the apartment. The view from his room was amazing, his bed was big enough to fit two adult men and so soft Martín would gladly steal it instead of jewellery. The rest of the flat wasn’t a youth hostel either. Martín smiled. He could get used to life like this.

‘Alright,’ Andrés said, throwing some files on the kitchen table. ‘This is everything I could find out about Vacca and his family. Learn it. Tomorrow we begin observation.’

Having said that, he headed towards the exit.

‘Where are you going?’ Martín asked.

‘Out.’ Andrés didn’t even bother to stop and look at him.

‘Oh no, I won’t go with you. But thanks for asking.’ Was this a revenge for ignoring Andrés? And if so, how long would it last? Martín would never say that, but he missed going out with him, joking at other people, drinking wine and listening to the history of the buildings they were passing during the walk.

‘Look, I think there’s no point in a fake curiosity,’ Andrés fixed his tie in the mirror. ‘We work together, but that doesn’t mean that we have to like each other.’

Martín frowned. ‘What have I ever done to you?’

Andrés finally turned towards him and Martín was surprised to see so much anger and loathe in his eyes. He instinctively took a step back.  
‘Oh, I don’t know, Martín. Maybe try to use my illness against me?’ Andrés said coldly.  
‘I- what? I-’ he had no idea what to say, but he felt he must said something, for fuck’s sake. But when did he give Andrés the reason to think that? Was it still about the night he met Tomas and Luciana?

‘You know, I believed you for a moment,’ Andrés continued. ‘But you shouldn’t have said that we’re friends.’

The realisation hit him like a train. ‘You think that I lied about our past?’

Andrés raised his hands dramatically. ‘Unbelievable. Don’t wait up for me.’

He walked out of the flat, leaving Martín in utter shock.

11th September 2007

Vacca’s wife, Lydia, worked at a foundation.

_Of course. It’s always a foundation or a yoga studio._

Martín and Andrés were sitting in a car together, watching as she entered her office.

‘She doesn’t really look like the fighting type,’ Andrés judged. ‘And she wears high heels and skirts to work. Good. It’ll be harder for her to escape.’

Martín frowned. That was a really dangerous thing to do – underestimating the victim. Especially underestimating them because of their clothes. ‘I’m not sure, Andrés.’

‘About what?’

‘Her. She doesn’t look like a weak Barbie doll. If we want to make sure she doesn’t escape, someone should have an eye on her and the kid.’

‘And who would that be, Martín?’ Andrés asked, annoyed. ‘I have to meet with Vacca, you have to cover me in case he tries something stupid. My brother doesn’t want to have anything to do with this and we can’t involve strangers. So tell me, who ‘should have an eye’ on Lydia and her daughter?’

‘Ok, then what about Lydia’s mother?’ Martín asked, taking the files from the glove box and browsing through them. ‘Here. The files say that they have a really strong bond. Maybe we can use her? An elderly woman wouldn’t have such high chances of escape.’

Andrés laughed mockingly. ‘I’ve been married twice and believe me, no man would give up a prize like that for a mother-in-law.’

‘Yes, but ...’

‘Martín, I said no.’

Martín clenched his jaw. ‘You brought me here because you wanted my help. And that’s what I’m doing by telling you that it’s far too big a weak point.’

‘I will lock her somewhere nobody would look. There will be no windows. I will truss her up like a turkey if I have to. She won’t escape.’

‘Ok, but what about the kid, Marie? The files say that she has asthma. What if she has an attack, but can’t take the medicine because you tied her up?’

‘Not my problem.’

‘Except it is your problem!’ Martín shouted so loud a random passer-by looked at the car. How could Andrés be so stupid and not see it? ‘The kid could die.’

‘I think I said very clearly that I don’t care. Listen carefully, mister engineer,’ Andrés said the last word like it was something spiteful. ‘This is what happens to people who try to scam me. Consider yourself lucky that you didn’t turn out to be a complete waste of time.’

‘So, are you having fun?’ Jeremias asked when Martín called him that evening.

‘More or less,’ Martín said. He went out for a walk because he couldn’t bear the atmosphere in the flat. Andrés’ cold behaviour, loud steps and slamming doors reminded Martín of a vicious animal marking its territory. ‘It’s not really what I expected.’

‘Andrés has changed since Berlin?’

‘You have no idea.’ It was almost as if Martín was invisible. Andrés didn’t talk to him unless absolutely necessary.

‘Put him on the phone. I’ll tell him ‘Listen here, pansy, you are either nice to my boyfriend or you’ll have to deal with me’.’

Martín chuckled. Now that would be something worth seeing. Jeremias saying it, that was. Not what would come after that. Andrés might not look like it, but he knew how to defend himself and his honour.

‘I appreciate it, but I doubt it’d change anything.’

‘Well, you can always come home. It’s not like you’re tied to him.’

‘No, I think I’ll stay. Maybe something will change.’ Martín really wanted to believe in that.

18th September 2007

Andrés was out again. At this point, Martín had stopped asking where he was going or when he would be back. He wouldn’t get an answer anyway. Instead, he focused on the work. He was going through the files again, hoping that maybe he’d come up with any idea.

Andrés was stubbornly claiming that Lydia and her daughter had to be captured and held with no supervision and rejected every criticism. What Martín thought would be a partnership, turned basically into 18th-century marriage and Martín was the woman in it.

‘Busy as always.’ Martín heard behind his back. He turned around to see Andrés. Only it wasn’t present-Andrés. He could tell by the way he was looking at him. With a smile.

Martín grinned. ‘I’ve never been happier to see you.’

They walked to the kitchen in silence. Andrés put two mugs out of the cupboard and started making coffee. Martín stood next to him, fully aware that he was staring, but he didn’t care.

‘What is it?’ Andrés asked, not looking up from the cups.

‘It just doesn’t make sense,’ Martín said what he had had in mind for four months. ‘How can you be him? He hates me so much I’m afraid to sleep at night.’

‘Now you’re just being dramatic,’ Andrés said, pouring milk into Martín’s mug.

‘Oh am I? You’ve just made me coffee. With milk. Even though I didn’t ask you to. Yesterday I asked him if we have sugar and he told me to stop being a child and check myself.’

Andrés chuckled.

‘Stop it. It’s not funny,’ Martín said, though he could feel the corners of his lips rise as well. It was good to hear Andrés’ laugh.

‘It is, a bit.’ Andrés handed him his cup. ‘Why do you care? You know how it ends.’

‘I know. It- it’s just not what I expected.’

19th September 2007

‘Why do you think I wanted to scam you?’ Martín asked the next evening, taking a break from analysing the blueprints of Lydia’s foundation’s office. Andrés was sitting at the other end of the table, writing down the results of today’s observation.

‘Because that’s what you tried to do,’ he said, not looking up.

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘Yes, you did.’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘Alright.’ Andrés finally stopped writing and looked at him properly. Martín couldn’t remember when was the last time it happened. ‘Do you have any proof?’

‘I knew lots of things about you before we met four months ago.’

Andrés shrugged.

‘You could have spied on me. As you can see, it’s not so hard to find information,’ he said, looking at the files of Vacca’s family.

‘Yes, but ...’

‘Look, Martín, there’s nothing you can say that would convince me. So stop bothering,’ he said and came back to work. Martín watched him for a while, but he couldn’t come up with a response to that.

22nd September 2007

‘We’re doing it!’ Andrés said as he stormed inside the flat four days later. ‘Vacca is having a business trip in five days.’

‘Five days?’ Martín looked at him as if he was insane. ‘Andrés, the plan is still a mess! We don’t even know where we’ll put the hostages!’

‘I’ll figure something out. It’s a one-time chance.’ Andrés went to his bedroom. Martín followed him, hoping to talk some sense into that idiot. Only his good reflexes stopped him from cracking his nose on the door as Andrés closed it with a slam.

23rd September 2007  
‘Alright. This is it,’ Andrés said as he stuck the last paper to the wall in the living room. ‘What do you think?’

Martín looked at what apparently was their plan.

‘Well, the colour of the paper is very nice,’ he said. ‘The rest, however ...’

‘Here we go again.’ Andrés looked at him as if he was about to punch him.

‘I’m just giving you my opinion.’

‘If your opinion is to give up the whole thing, you can go back to Palermo!’

Martín sighed and shook his head. He looked at the plan one more time. No matter if he left him or not, Andrés would still perform the plan. And he would get himself imprisoned and Martín would end up having to rescue him. No, coming back home wasn’t a solution. He just had to come up with his own plan.

25th September 2007  
Martín couldn’t sleep. Or rather, couldn’t let himself sleep. In three days they were supposed to kidnap two people and their plan sucked. And since Andrés didn’t want to help him, Martín worked alone.

He kept staring at the files and blueprints, but nothing useful came to mind. His thoughts were going in circles, repeating the same nonsense over and over again. Every time he thought he’d found a solution he faced another wall, an obstacle he couldn’t overcome.

‘Fuck!’ he screamed and knocked everything down from the table. Notes and blueprints spun in the air for a moment before landing on the floor with no damage. That only made Martín angrier. He kicked the blueprints, grabbed Andrés’ notes and ripped them in two. He reached for Lydia’s file with the intent to do the same and saw one paper fall out of it. He bent down, ready to fucking destroy this stupid piece of shit, but his eyes stopped on one sentence.

‘Lisa Mores: Lydia’s mother, lives in Padua, Lydia calls her every day, they meet at least six times a year.’

_The mother. Of course._

Martín grabbed his notebook and started writing before the idea went away.

26th September 2007

It was three in the morning when he finished. He ran to Andrés’ bedroom and started banging at the door.

‘Andrés!’ he shouted, tugging the doorknob. Why the fuck did Andrés have to lock his door? ‘Andrés, wake up! I’ve got it! I’ve figured out the plan!’

He heard the lock being turned. Maybe he would have commented at the sight of his fashion-icon friend wearing a simple T-shirt and tracksuit bottoms if he hadn’t just spent the whole night planning the kidnapping. Though, he wasn’t sure if they could call this a kidnapping anymore.

‘Come on!’ Martín grabbed his wrist and tugged Andrés to the living room.

Andrés studied the notes for an irritatingly long time. Martín literally couldn’t stop himself from bouncing and chewing his fingernails. But then again, he would rather do that than sit down, too afraid that he would fall asleep immediately.

Slowly, Andrés straightened up. He looked at Martín. He was smiling.

29th September 2007

A few days later Martín was looking at the laptop, watching through the hidden camera as Raul Vacca came back home from his business trip to see knocked down furniture, half-eaten breakfast and a note saying ‘You know what I want’ with a location and time below it.

‘Aaaaand call,’ Martín said to Andrés.

A moment later Vacca took the phone out of his pocket. Martín watched his face still in fear as the man heard that his wife had never made it to work today. Five seconds later a man who introduced himself as Marie’s teacher said that the girl didn’t show up at her exam today.

They were meeting Vacca in an old barn, half an hour away from the city. Martín was on the upper level, where once hay was stored. The window overlooked the road and its immediate area. If Vacca wasn’t coming alone, they’d know and have enough time to run away.

‘And?’ Martín heard Andrés’ voice from downstairs.

‘Nothing. How much time does he have?’

‘Ten minutes. If my family’s life was at stake, I wouldn’t be late.’

Martín looked through the window again. He silenced the little voice inside him saying that he hadn’t thought this all through, that there was a weak point he missed, that he fucked up. Everything was fine, Vacca still had time and they had an escape plan just in case. Everything was fine.

‘I must admit that this plan is … better than the previous one.’ Andrés’ voice startled him out of his thoughts. Martín smiled.

‘Are you being nice to me?’

‘It has nothing to do with being nice,’ Andrés clarified. ‘I can appreciate beauty in everything.’

‘Sure.’ Even if Andrés noticed sarcasm in his voice, he didn’t let that show.

There was a moment of silence before Andrés spoke up again, ‘But perhaps you’re not as annoying as I thought.’

‘Careful or I’ll think that you like me.’

‘You wish.’

Martín laughed and heard Andrés do the same. He wanted to say something else, but he saw a car on the road.

‘Get ready,’ he said. ‘Vacca is coming. Alone.’

Martín took his position next to the rifle. He wasn’t a marksman, but Vacca was a big enough target for everyone to shoot.

Martín heard the man stopping the engine and getting out of the car. Seconds later the trader was standing in front of Andrés.

‘Where is my family?’ Vacca asked.

‘Good evening to you too, Raul,’ Andrés said calmly. Martín smirked. Andrés might be a criminal, but no one could say that he wasn’t a real gentleman.

‘I brought what you wanted.’ Vacca took a velvet pouch out of the pocket of his jacket. ‘Where are they?’

‘Oh, don’t worry. They’re safe.’

‘I want to know they’re alive.’

Andrés looked at him as if he was actually wondering whether to do it or not. Finally, he tossed the trader a phone.

‘Call your wife,’ he said. ‘But if you say a word, something bad might happen.’

Vacca dialed a number. They waited in silence and Martín was almost sure nobody would pick up, but then Vacca took a shaky breath and covered his mouth with his hand.

‘You have your proof,’ Andrés said when the call ended. ‘Now, give me the prize.’

‘How do I know you won’t kill them?’

‘You have my word. And it’s worth way more than yours, you rat.’ It was nice to hear this cold-stone tone and know that it was meant for someone other than Martín.

Vacca still didn’t look convinced, but he must have realised he didn’t have any other option. He slowly walked up to Andrés and gave him the pouch. Andrés looked inside, making sure that he wasn’t trying to scam him again.

‘I’d say that doing business with you was a pleasure.’ Andrés hid the prize in his pocket. ‘But I don’t want to lie.’

‘You got what you wanted. Now give me my family back,’ Vacca clenched his fists as if he was getting ready for a fight.

‘I don’t have your family,’ Andrés shrugged.

‘What? You son of a bitch …’

‘I’ve never said I have your family. They’re in Padua.’

‘Padua?’

‘Yes. Sweet Lydia thinks that her mother has had an accident. She took your daughter with her. Right now they’re probably arguing with hospital staff because they can’t find any Lisa Mores in the register.’

‘So it was all a trick?’ Vacca asked with his eyes wide open and Martín felt a pang of pride in his chest.

‘Oh, I must admit that I wanted to kidnap them properly. Hold them in a dirty shed, tied, without food and water. But I changed my mind.’

Vacca looked at him as if he was a monster.

‘You’re a psychopath.’

Andrés chuckled, but there was no amusement in it.

‘Hearing it from you is a compliment. Now, I wish I could stay and talk, but I’ve already wasted too much time on you.’

Andrés stepped back and Martín pulled a trigger. He knew he hadn’t missed when Vacca flinched and reached to his stomach.

‘You ...’ he said, but didn’t finish. His legs bent under his weight and soon the trader was lying on the floor.

Martín went down the ladder and joined Andrés, who was standing over the body.

‘You sure about that?’ he asked.

‘Yup.’ Martín knelt down and checked Vacca’s pulse. ‘He should wake up in 2 hours. More or less. I’m not sure how long animal darts work on humans. But he’ll live.’

‘Wonderful,’ Andrés murmured. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

Andrés agreed to give Martín a lift to the nearest train station. They drove in silence, but for the first time during this trip, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

‘So what are you going to do now?’ Martín asked when they stopped at the parking lot.

‘Try to sell this,’ Andrés patted the pouch hidden in his jacket. ‘And then I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll go to Copenhagen.’

‘That’s a long way,’ Martín pointed out, trying not to sound too hopeful. ‘Longer than to Berlin.’

‘Life is cruel.’

Martín nodded his head. He got the hint.

‘Well, thanks for the lift.’ He took his bag from the back seat, got out of the car and headed towards the station building.

‘We could be friends.’ He heard behind his back. He turned around to see Andrés leaning over the opened window. ‘If we had started differently.’

Martín smirked. ‘You still don’t believe me?’

‘How can I?’

He shook his head and laughed quietly.

‘You don’t seem too concerned about that,’ Andrés said surprised. Martín looked at him with a smile.

‘Because I know that I’m not lying, Andrés,’ he said, walking backwards. ‘And one day you’ll understand that.’

He threw Andrés one last smile and turned around to catch his train. He knew how this story would end. It had already happened. And the past couldn’t be changed.


	5. Chapter 5

Palermo 16th October 2007

‘And? What do you think?’ Luciana asked, opening the door to the wedding hall. Martín looked around. The place was spacious and well-lit, the round tables at the back would enable guests to talk comfortably and gave many possibilities for keeping more argumentative people away from each other. The acoustics were pretty good too. Outside, there was a large garden with benches and a pond where one could take a break from the noise. Martín now understood the amazement in Luciana’s voice when she first told him about the place.

‘It’s nice,’ he admitted. He could already imagine himself dancing in the middle of the hall, showing all these drunk idiots what it meant to move your hips.

‘We were thinking about hiring a security too,’ Luciana continued. ‘You know, to prevent strangers from coming.’

‘Isn’t that a bit much?’ Martín asked. Yes, the venue was beautiful, but who would sneak into Tomas and Luciana’s wedding anyway? It’s not like they were celebrities, constantly harassed by their fans.

‘There are people who wouldn’t miss the occasion to get a free drink,’ Luciana said dead serious.

‘Yesterday I read an article about a man who got arrested like that,’ Tomas said, joining them in the hall. He walked up to Luciana and wrapped his arm around her waist. Martín rolled his eyes. ‘He broke into some rich couple’s wedding and tried to steal their gifts. The police got him.’

Martín laughed. What a stupid reason to be arrested.

‘Maybe you should hire security to stand by the gifts. Or put a fence around them.’

Tomas laughed, ‘I mean if that couple from Copenhagen had done that, nothing would have happened.’

Martín’s blood turned cold. ‘Did you say Copenhagen?’

‘Yes, I believe that’s where it happened.’

Luciana went on about where she’d put flowers and described her and Tomas’ fight about whether they should get a DJ or a band. Martín tried to respond with his usual wit and sarcasm, but he couldn’t focus.

_Could it be? No, he’s not that stupid. But then again …_

‘You know, I just remembered I have to call Jeremias. I’ll be right back,’ he said, interrupting Tomas as he tried to give all the reasons why a DJ was better than a band.

Martín left the building and took the phone out of his pocket. He quickly dialed Andrés’ number, hoping that he hadn’t changed it this time.

_Oh come on. Pick up, pick up._

No response.

_Fuck._

He wanted to call one more time, but then his phone rang.

‘Andrés? Are you ok?’ he asked, not bothering to greet him properly.

‘Really?’ he heard Andrés’ mocking voice. ‘This is why you’re calling?’

‘I heard that someone was caught while stealing wedding gifts in Copenhagen ...’

‘And you thought that it was me? Do you really think I’m that stupid?’

He had a point. But still, Martín sighed at his response. What did he expect anyway?

‘It’s good to see that you’re still an asshole.’

‘Wait.’ Andrés’ voice stopped him from hanging up. ‘Assuming that I was the man who got caught. What would you do?’

Martín thought about laughing it off, but something in him made him tell the truth.

‘Try to get you out.’

28th October 2007

Martín was sitting in Jeremias’ kitchen, basically being interrogated by Gianna and Vito, also known as Jeremias’ parents. He could see that they meant no harm, really, were just excited to finally meet him, but that didn’t change the fact that he had never expected to be introduced to anybody’s parents, especially not today.

He had spent the night at Jeremias’ and, as always when he wasn’t alone, couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in bed for most of the night, trying to find a comfortable position, which was hard with only half of the usual space. When he walked out of the bedroom and saw two strangers talking to Jeremias in the kitchen, his mind didn’t react as it should. And he should choose any of the accents he could fake and pretend to be Jeremias’ friend who was too poor to get a hotel room during his one-day trip. Instead, he just stood there, frozen, which gave his boyfriend the time to introduce him and reveal the true nature of their relationship.

‘These are my parents,’ Jeremias added at the end and all Martín could think was how fortunate it was that he decided to put his trousers on before walking out of the bedroom.

Jeremias’ father was in the middle of the story about his engineer friend who, unfortunately, got addicted to cocaine and almost died when they heard Martín’s phone buzz on the countertop.

‘Excuse me, this might be important,’ Martín said and stood up as quickly as he could without running. He grabbed his phone and went to the bedroom. He smiled seeing Andrés’ number on the screen.

_photo_

_German police think they’ve caught the people who stole from the jeweller. One of the policewomen even recognised them by height and voice. Idiots_

Martín looked at the photo of a newspaper article. It was in German, so he didn’t understand much, but he recognised the building in the picture. There was also a fuzzy photograph of two men being dragged into the police car.

_I don’t know, Andrés. They seem pretty suspicious to me. I think they should lock them up. Just in case_

10th November 2007, Rome

Martín didn’t like November, generally speaking, but there was always an event that helped him get through the month. Engineering Convention in Rome. Usually, he went there with Tomas and Luciana, but this year they had to stay in Palermo. The wedding planning was getting a bit out of hand, if you asked for Martín’s opinion.

So there he was. Alone in Rome. He thought about how much less entertaining the whole thing would be if there was no one he could make fun of other people with when he noticed a familiar silhouette.

‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you’re an engineer. Do you have a degree in anything at all?’ he asked, but he made his voice sound friendly.

Sergio turned around and smiled when he recognised him.

‘Martín!’ They shook hands and Sergio seemed genuinely happy to see him. Martín wondered how much he knew about his relationship with Andrés, whatever relationship they had. ‘I didn’t know you went to conventions.’

‘I could say the same about you. What are you doing here?’

‘I was in the city and decided to take a look,’ Sergio said, fixing his glasses.

‘Is Andrés with you?’ Martín tried his best to not sound too hopeful.

‘No. The last time I checked, he was in Denmark.’

Martín nodded his head. He had to admit, he was a bit disappointed. But then again, maybe it was for the better. Someone who knew maths’ basics would be a better companion this time.

A few hours later they were about to leave and grab something to eat when Martín noticed that someone was staring at them. Or rather at Sergio. Two women were standing a few meters away from them, pointing at them and talking to each other in hushed voices. When they realised that Martín was looking at them, they laughed as if they were still in high school.

‘Someone is popular,’ Martín said, nodding his head in the women’s direction. Sergio looked there and the women smiled and waved at him. ‘They’re so into you they’d probably have you right here on the floor if you let them.’

‘Martín!’ He couldn’t be sure because of the beard, but he thought he noticed Sergio’s cheeks getting red.

‘What? It’s true. Go and talk to them. I’ll wait.’

Sergio shifted awkwardly. ‘Where do I start?’

‘Seriously?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re asking a gay man how to pick up a woman?’

Sergio cleared his throat and fixed his glasses.

‘I can’t believe it.’ Martín ran his fingers through his hair. And this was supposed to be Andrés’ brother? ‘Alright, stay here, don’t do anything stupid. Try to look sad, but in a sexy way.’

Martín headed towards the women, not minding helpless ‘What do you mean ‘in a sexy way’?’ behind his back.

‘Hi,’ he said, giving the women one of his brightest smiles and reaching his hand. ‘I’m Martín,’

The women exchanged amused looks before they focused back at him.

‘I’m Alva,’ said the blonde. ‘And this is Hana.’

Martín shook their hands. He briefly recalled the time when Andrés met Luciana and kissed her hand. He wondered if Sergio would do the same.

‘It’s very nice to meet you both,’ he said instead. ‘Are you enjoying the convention?’

‘Oh yes, very much,’ Hana said and Martín thought that she would elaborate, but then Alva interrupted her.

‘What about your friend?’ she asked, looking in Sergio’s direction. ‘He didn’t want to say hi?’

‘Sergio? He’s just shy. He doesn’t go out much.’ He took a step closer as if he was telling them a secret. Alva and Hana instinctively leaned in. ‘See, he takes care of his younger brother. Their parents died a few years ago and Sergio brings him up all by himself.’

‘Oh my God, really?’ Alva asked, looking above his shoulder. Martín was pleased to see concern in her eyes.

‘Yes. It’s a miracle he agreed to go to the convention. But I think that after all he does he should have some fun.’

‘You’re absolutely right,’ Hana nodded.

‘You know, we were about to go to a restaurant. Do you want to come with us?’ Martín asked, already knowing the answer.

The dinner went wonderfully. Martín hadn’t had so much fun since Tomas slipped on his birthday and fell into the cake. Sergio didn’t talk much, letting Martín praise his attempts in being a single parent for young Andrés, who was a wonderful, but mischievous child, in peace.

Martín excused himself right after they ate, leaving Sergio alone with Alva and Hana. He hoped Sergio’s hotel room had a big bed.

He headed towards his own hotel and took a phone from his pocket.

_I just got your brother a girlfriend. Two actually. You don’t have to thank me._

A few seconds later Andrés called him.

‘What do you mean, you got him two girlfriends?’ he asked and it felt impossibly similar to ‘If my brother gets gonorrhoea because you got him a hooker, I’ll kill you.’ Martín chuckled.

‘We bumped into each other at the Engineering Convention in Rome and there were these two women who were staring at him as if he was Brad Pitt. But because you haven’t done your homework and didn’t teach your younger brother how to talk to hot people, I had to help him.’

‘You? You’re gay, Martín!’

Martín was sure that the only reason he said it was because he called Andrés a bad big brother.

‘Hey, that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to talk to women!’

‘Oh yeah? What did you tell them?’

‘That Sergio is taking care of his younger brother because their parents died.’

There was silence in the phone and Martín began to think that he somehow insulted Andrés, when he heard him laugh. He almost could imagine him throwing his head back.

‘It works every time, doesn’t it?’ he said in-between chuckles.

Palermo

2nd December 2007

Martín opened his eyes suddenly. His phone was ringing irritatingly loudly. He looked at the alarm clock. It was 2 am. Who would be calling him right now?

He looked at the screen.

_Of course._

‘Hello?’ he asked, at the edge of tears and yes, it was childish, but no, he didn’t care. Sleep was a sacred thing to him, his own private religious service and he treated interrupting it as an offense against religious feelings.

‘Did I wake you?’ Andrés asked.

‘Take a guess.’

‘I need your help.’ Andrés didn’t seem to mind the irritation in his voice. ‘I’m working on a plan and some parts just don’t seem to click.’

Martín looked at his pillow longingly.

‘Bring it on,’ he said as he walked to the kitchen to make himself a pot of coffee.

1st January 2008

_Happy New Year_

The answer came almost immediately.

_Happy New Year, Martín_

25th January 2008

‘What do you mean you got married?’ Martín asked, almost dropping his phone. ‘The last time we talked you just said you’re in Leipzig. You didn’t even mention that you have a girlfriend.’

‘You’re just sad that I didn’t invite you to the wedding,’ Andrés said, clearly offended that Martín didn’t share his enthusiasm. ‘If it’s any consolation, Sergio wasn’t there either.’

‘You didn’t invite your own brother?’

‘I didn’t have time, really. It all happened so fast.’

‘Do you even know her name?’

‘Of course I do, Martín. It’s Amelie. You don’t have to nag so much. I thought you’d be happy that I’m happy.’

‘I am. But are you really sure that it’s not too soon?’

‘Oh Martín, life is too short to overthink. Sometimes you just have to act - and love is love, right?’ Martín heard a muffled female voice. Andrés replied something in German and laughed. Martín heard the sound of kissing and cleared his throat.

‘I have to go,’ Andrés said and hung up on him.

_Fucking straight couples._

19th February 2008

Martín hated asking people for favours. He hated admitting that he couldn’t do something himself, that he needed help, hated the power that it was giving to the others over him. But it was his and Jeremias’ anniversary in less than two weeks and if rom-coms had taught him anything, it was that you were supposed to surprise your partner on your anniversary. And what would be more surprising than two tickets to the play that had been sold out long ago?

So he decided to do that. Because he was a good boyfriend.

He dialed Andrés’ number, trying to suppress the need to bite his fingernails.

‘If you want to ask if I’m the man who got arrested for stealing a cinnamon roll, I’m not.’ He heard Andrés’ amused voice.

‘Stealing a cinnamon roll?’ Martín repeated like an idiot.

‘He told the shop assistant that it was a small cinnamon roll, but then it turned out to be a medium one. He said that it was an honest mistake, but was taken to the precinct anyway.’

‘Right. But no, that’s not why I’m calling you.’ He took a deep breath. He was a good boyfriend. ‘Do you remember when a year ago you said that one of the actors owes you and you could get us tickets to any play?’

‘Yes.’

Martín curled his hand into a fist.

‘Well, I was wondering if you could get me two tickets for the play on 3rd March.’

Martín bit his lip, waiting for Andrés’ response. For fuck’s sake, was he writing a poem there? A short ‘yes’ or ‘no’ would be enough. How long can you think about an answer to something so simple? It’s not like Martín asked him to kill someone.

‘You know what, forget I asked-’ Fuck Andres, he hated Martin with passion, still thinking that he tried to scam him. Why would he help him?

‘I’ll do it.’

‘Really?’ he asked, hating the disbelief in his voice.

‘Yes.’

‘Alright.’ He cleared his throat and tried to sound as if he was unbothered by it. ‘What do you want in return?’

There was silence for a moment. Knowing Andrés, he would probably ask for Martín’s free help during the next heist. Surprisingly, Martín would have nothing against it.

‘Nothing. Consider it a gift.’

9th May 2008

Undeniably, one of the best things about a long-term relationship was getting to know your partner until you can communicate with each other without words. That way Martín knew very well what it meant when Jeremias kept tugging at his ear during dinner.

They entered Martín’s flat kissing and immediately headed to the bedroom, tripping over their own feet, not even bothering to turn on the lights.

‘I’ll be right back,’ Jeremias said and he walked to the bathroom.

Martín took off his clothes. No need to waste time, right? He walked to bed and lay down.

‘Fuck!’ he shouted and stood up, as he felt something that certainly wasn’t a mattress shift under his back. He looked at the shape under his duvet that was now murmuring something, angry that it was disturbed.

‘What the hell?!’ Martín shouted again when he turned on the bedside lamp and dim warm light flooded the room, revealing the face of the intruder. Andrés pulled a face and raised his hand to cover his eyes from the light. He looked at Martín from head to toe and frowned.

‘Why are you naked?’ he asked in a raspy voice.

‘Really? That’s what you’re asking?’ Martín asked. He studied Andrés’ face and understood that him being in his bed had nothing to do with time travelling.

‘Martín? Who’s that?’ Jeremias asked as he walked inside the bedroom. He stopped when he saw Andrés. ‘Andrés. Martín didn’t tell me you were coming.’

‘Yeah, because I didn’t know,’ Martín said, picking up his trousers from the floor and putting it on. Then he turned to Andrés who didn’t seem even a bit embarrassed to be found in Martín’s bed. ‘What happened?’

‘Why did anything have to happen?’ Andrés asked resentfully, closing his eyes and hugging Martín’s pillow tightly. ‘Can’t I just visit my friend who lives in one of the most beautiful cities I’ve ever seen?’

‘Are you drunk?’ Jeremias asked what Martín had had on his mind since he first saw him.

‘I had a glass of wine in the restaurant,’ he murmured and waved his hand at them. ‘But I interrupted you. Go back to whatever you were doing, just use the couch and be quiet.’

‘Alright, that’s enough.’ Martín reached to him with the intention to get him the hell out of his bed, but he jumped back when Andrés made a repulsive sound and put his hand to his mouth after Martín tried to lift him up by his elbow.

‘Bad idea,’ Andrés said after a while. ‘Unless you want to clean up.’

‘You think I’d clean up after you?’ Martín asked, but he left Andrés alone.

‘Martín,’ Jeremias called him and nodded his head in the direction of the corridor. They walked out of the bedroom and Martín closed the door behind them.

‘I’m sorry. I don’t know why he’s here,’ he said.

‘Has he ever behaved like that?’ Jeremias asked with a frown.

‘No.’ Martín ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I’ll call his brother. Maybe he knows what’s going on. But I don’t think we’ll be able to spend tonight together.’

‘Yes, the atmosphere is ruined,’ Jeremias said and laughed after a moment.

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ Jeremias shrugged and laughed again. ‘I’ve just seen another guy in your bed and he is straight.’

‘Nothing this body couldn’t change,’ Martín said, spreading his arms, letting Jeremias admire him. His boyfriend’s adoring gaze scanned him and Martín was proud to see desire in Jeremias’ eyes.

‘Point taken.’ Jeremias pulled him close and kissed him passionately. Martín almost forgot about the asshole in his bed.

_Stupid Andrés. This night could be great._

‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ Jeremias said after he broke the kiss. Martín walked him to the exit and closed the door when he left.

‘Turn off the light!’ he heard Andrés’ voice from his bedroom and sighed. He wasn’t the man Martín hoped would keep him up all night. Life was cruel.

10th May 2008

Martín looked up from the newspaper when he heard Andrés growl in the bedroom. He poured water into a glass and headed towards whatever was awaiting him. He had never seen a hungover Andrés and he didn’t really know what to expect.

‘Morning,’ he said, walking into the room.

Andrés murmured something only his pillow could hear. Martín put the glass on the nightstand and looked inside the mop bucket he put beside the bed just in case Andrés actually vomited, but, thankfully, it was empty.

‘What time is it?’ Andrés asked.

‘Almost eleven. You want breakfast or dinner?’

‘Don’t mention food,’ Andrés mumbled, trying to sit up. Martín helped him and gave him the glass once he was sure Andrés wouldn’t fall back onto the pillow.

‘What happened?’ he asked once Andrés stopped drinking. He called Sergio, but he had no idea why his brother was in Palermo. ‘We talked a week ago and everything seemed fine. You’ve just arrived in Vienna and acted like a child in a toy shop.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

Martín snorted. His flat wasn’t a drunk tank, thank you very much. He had saved Andrés from sleeping in the street, so he deserved an explanation.

‘Oh, but I do. You broke into my flat while drunk and ruined my night. So?’

Andrés exhaled and shook his head, but he spoke up, ‘We divorced. Amelie and I.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Betrayal is an inherent part of love, Martín.’

‘It still doesn’t explain why you’re here. It’s more than 2000 kilometers to Vienna.’

‘I didn’t want to stay there. I just got inside the car and … Palermo seemed like the best option. I went to the restaurant. After I drank some wine, coming to you seemed like a good plan. I knocked, but you weren’t home, so I had no other choice but to get inside myself.’

Martín stared at him for a moment. Andrés looked like an airless balloon, all stooped, staring at some invisible point with a sad gaze. The fact that he was so desperate for a company he came all the way to Palermo to the man, he believed, had tried to scam him, was the best proof that the divorce really shook him. Martín would gladly snap Amelie’s neck, but that wasn’t what Andrés needed right now.

‘Well, as much as I’m happy you’re here, I want my bed back and your back won’t bear many nights on the couch,’ Martín said, startling Andrés out of his thoughts. ‘I looked for the flat for you. There is one two streets away. If you decide to take it, you can move in on Monday.’

Andrés smiled weakly. ‘Well, aren’t you the perfect assistant?’

24th May 2008

Two weeks later, Martín was fed up with Andrés. He took the flat in Martín’s neighbourhood and spent all his time there wallowing in self-pity. Martín tried to talk to him, to ask why he divorced his wonderful wench, but Andrés was just repeating the betrayal bullshit and claiming that he’s a modern Werther and it’d be better if he just shot himself. Martín wasn’t really worried about it. He knew Andrés’ self-love wouldn’t let him take the miracle of his existence away from the world.

But the whole situation became exhausting eventually. So on Saturday Martín just stormed into Andrés’ flat and didn’t give him enough time to speak up first.

‘Get dressed. You’re coming with me.’

‘Where?’

‘We're meeting Jeremias, Tomas, and Luciana for a drink. You’re going to go to a club, drink a few shots and get laid like every straight guy after a break-up does.’

Andrés growled, but he moved from the couch he had been basically living on for the past weeks. Martín waited for him to change into clean clothes and was pleased to notice that a broken heart didn’t take away Andrés’ fashion sense.

_Good sign._

During the evening Andrés kept pretending to be miserable, but once he noticed that nobody really cared, he began to let go. He drank enough to relax, but still not to the point he couldn’t stand on his feet. An hour later Martín smiled, seeing him making out with some chick in the corner.

_Alright. That’s the first step._

4th June 2008

After that night, Andrés started to go out every day. He spent most of his time with Martín, either taking him out or just coming over with a bottle of wine, but his companionship apparently wasn’t enough. Jeremias was going out with them almost every time, Tomas and Luciana whenever they weren’t planning the wedding. Andrés also invited Vanessa once or twice and on the nights none of them could meet with him, he just went into bars and clubs to spend time with strangers.

Martín knew what it was all about. Andrés was casting his spell on everyone who looked at him and basked in the adoration and attention he was receiving in return. And Martín didn’t want to take that away from him, but he missed the times when Andrés’ attention was just on him, when he was the only one Andrés listened to and the only one he looked at. He felt something dark rise inside him every time Andrés’ tore his gaze away from him.

So when he asked if Martín would like to go to a benefit gala, he agreed immediately. Jeremias could go visit his hell of a sister in that time. Julia didn’t really liked Martín (the feeling was mutual), so she’d probably be glad that he didn’t come with her brother.

The place was full of rich, selfish people dressed in clothes so expensive they could end poverty in many poor neighbourhoods of Argentina. Martín pulled a face in disgust.

_Benefit gala my ass._

‘Why are we even here?’ Martín asked Andrés, who fit wonderfully to this bunch of clowns in his Disney-prince-like suit. ‘Did you become a philanthropist?’

Andrés smiled at him as if he heard the best joke in the world.

‘Practice,’ Andrés said, taking two glasses of champagne and giving one of them to Martín. ‘I can’t let my skills get rusty. Point at anyone and tell me which part of their jewellery I have to steal.’

Martín laughed, but Andrés just looked at him expectantly.

‘Alright.’ Martín looked around carefully and then he whispered to Andrés’ ear, ‘The woman in red. Her bracelet.’

Andrés fixed his tie and approached said woman. Martín watched with amusement as he introduced himself with a fake name and started to charm her with his smile and flattery. A few seconds later Andrés returned to him and showed Martín the bracelet hidden in the inside pocket of his jacket.

Martín nodded in approval. ‘Not bad.’

‘Thank you. Now, your target is him,’ Andrés pointed at the man next to the stairs who was explaining something fiercely to his companions. ‘Bring me his watch.’

‘What? You want me to play too?’

‘Well, of course. There’s no fun if I’m the only one playing. So? Will you do it or are you a coward?’

Martín narrowed his eyes at him, but Andrés didn’t seem sorry at all. Martín emptied his glass of champagne in one go and walked up to the man Andrés pointed. No one would call him a coward.

6th June 2008

‘Shit!’ Martín cursed when he heard knocking at the door. He looked at the mess in the kitchen. Apparently, the movie about the french rat lied and not everyone could cook.

He wiped his hands in trousers and walked to the corridor. He opened the door to see Andrés standing there with a bottle of wine and a smug smile on his face. Now, Martín hadn’t looked in the mirror for two hours, but the way Andrés’ smile faded when he saw him told him enough about his current appearance.

‘What are you doing?’ Andrés asked as if Martín was the one who came uninvited to his flat when he was cooking a romantic dinner for his boyfriend.

‘Cooking. Jeremias is coming today. I want to make it up to him for the night you interrupted us.’

‘And by the smell, I guess you want to poison him,’ Andrés said, pursing his nose.

‘You know, if you’re here to make fun of me, I don’t need it,’ Martín said and started to close the door, but Andrés just walked inside like he hadn’t heard anything. He went straight to the kitchen and looked at the contents of multiple pans and pots. Martín stood behind him like a gladiator hoping for the crowd’s mercy.

‘And?’ he asked when Andrés tried the sauce.

‘Sergio was a better cook than you when he was twelve.’

‘Fuck.’ Martín tugged his hair. ‘Alright, I’ll make him pancakes. Or order pizza, whatever.’

Andrés looked at him for a moment with a puzzled look before he spoke up, ‘Show me what you have.’

Martín let him examine the insides of the cupboards and the fridge.

‘When is he coming?’ Andrés asked, taking out a pack of pasta.

‘In about an hour.’

‘Alright.’ He took off his jacket. ‘Do as I say and you’ll have time to wash before he comes. You smell like a burnt chicken.’

12th June 2008

‘You know, when you said that we’d watch a movie today, I expected something else,’ Andrés said, looking at the DVD in his hand.

‘Why? What’s wrong with this one?’ Martín asked, opening his bottle of beer.

‘A horror, Martín? Really?’

‘Would you prefer a rom-com?’

Andrés mumbled something about the fall of high culture, but he sat down on the couch next to Martín. Martín played the movie and they watched in silence. For ten minutes.

‘He’s going to die,’ Andrés said when one of the characters said that monsters weren't real.

‘Obviously.’

‘Wait, you know that?’

‘Yeah.’ Martín took a handful of chips from the pack. ‘Classic. And they’re going to hook up.’ He pointed at a shy boy and a popular girl.

‘Then why are we watching this?’

‘You can’t watch just award-winning, black-and-white movies. Sometimes you can just relax, not wonder what the message is or what the lights sequence means. These kinds of movies you just watch to stop thinking.’

‘And that’s supposed to be a good thing?’ Andrés looked at him as if he was illiterate.

‘Listen, I know you want people to think that you’re so classy and educated,’ he waved his hands mockingly, ‘but you can let go sometimes. And who is here that you want to impress anyway?’

Andrés shook his head, but he let Martín play the rest of the movie. He didn’t speak anymore, except for the smug “Told you” when the character he had pointed at died. When the movie ended and Martín moved to take the disc out of the DVD player, Andrés asked in a tone that was probably supposed to be nonchalant, ‘Do you have more bad movies?’

21st June 2008

Martín liked his birthday. Or rather, he liked celebrating it - receiving gifts and drinking until he couldn’t pronounce his own name.

He didn’t want to brag, but other people also liked his birthday, knowing that Martín threw the best parties. This year, however, Martín had one more reason to look forward to the day.

Andrés was supposed to be there.

Martín realised that he had never seen him at a house party before. They had been to a club, yes, but that was something different. How would he behave? Would he despise cheap alcohol, the quality of music and people dressed in simple T-shirts or would he try to blend into the crowd and go completely crazy? One thing was sure, Martín wanted to find out.

He supposed that Andrés would be late, so he was actually surprised when he showed up in time. He was wearing a suit and apparently didn’t mind that he looked terribly overdressed. Martin doubted that the term existed in his dictionary. 

The party warmed up. People were drinking and laughing, having fun. Martín was proud to notice that his newest purchase, a drinking roulette set, was a hit.

‘Alright, alright, time for gifts!’ Luciana said a few minutes before midnight. It was actually the last chance to do this. Martín felt that after a few more drinks he might not be able to stop rude comments about boring gifts.

The crowd cheered. Martín walked up to the table where the gifts were lying. He smiled at the ones that were actually useful and pretended to be happy with detective books and cheap perfumes. He got to the last gift. The box was small, tied with a ribbon.

_Another gift card,_ he thought and quickly came up with an overjoyed exclamation. But as he opened the box his eyes widened. He smiled widely and searched for Andrés in the crowd. He was standing in the back with a bottle of beer in his hand, looking very pleased with himself.

‘What is it?’ Jeremias asked, seeing his reaction.

Martín took the gift out of the box and showed it to everyone. A miniature Brandenburg Gate.

The party continued. Martín had already spotted a few strangers in the crowd, the music got louder, the queue to the bathroom suggested that either somebody fell asleep there or was having sex. Martín was looking for Andrés. He had seen him spending most of the night with Vanessa, but after the gift unwrapping, Martín lost sight of him. He started to think that Andrés time travelled when he found him standing on the balcony. He walked up to him and leaned on the rail, breathing in the night air.

Andrés didn’t seem to notice his presence until he spoke up suddenly, ‘She couldn’t stand me disappearing,’

Martín frowned, his mind slower because of the alcohol running in his veins.

‘Amelie. That’s why we divorced.’

Martín felt his stomach drop. He wanted to somehow comfort Andrés, but he had no idea what to say. Andrés didn’t seem to notice that, he just continued his story:

‘My first wife, Rebbeca, thought I was cheating on her because I was often absent and I didn’t want to tell her where I’d been. So when I met Charlotte, I told her everything at the beginning. She accepted it. But then, a few months after the wedding, she got pregnant. One night she woke up all in blood. The doctor said that he had never seen anything like that before, it looked as if the child just disappeared.’

‘It time travelled?’ Martín asked, shocked.

‘I think so. Charlotte broke down, couldn’t look at me.’

Martín wished he could say something, but the amount of alcohol in his system didn’t help. All he could feel was disdain for these women who caused Andrés pain, who disappointed him, who dared to let him go. People were cruel.

‘Maybe that’s why I decided to marry Amelie so quickly,’ Andrés’ voice startled him out of his thoughts. ‘Before it all turned to dust. Because, one way or another, it will always end the same. Betrayal is an inherent part of love.’

Martín swallowed hard. It was wrong. It was all wrong, seeing Andrés like this, even for a minute.

‘You don’t know that for sure,’ he said, bringing Andrés attention to him. ‘You’ve only dated women. We all know how they are, changing moods all the time, obsessed with procreation. My personal advice? Try going out with men.’

Andrés threw his head back and laughed.

‘What? I’m serious,’ he said, relieved at the sigh of Andrés’ smile. ‘I know some gay bars, we can go there some time, find you a nice twink.’

Andrés looked at him with a smile. ‘Thank you, Martín. Really.’

‘Sure,’ Martín grinned. ‘Anything for the guy who got me a miniature Brandenburg Gate.’

3rd July 2008

Martín stared at the bunch of keys lying on the table.

‘I’m not saying that you have to move in or even use them ...’

Jeremias’ voice was coming from afar, as if Martín was underwater.

‘But I want you to have them. To have a choice.’

It all came together now. Martín should have known what was going on the moment they walked into the restaurant. It was way too expensive for a normal date, candles on tables, piano player in the back, the prices of the dishes, it all screamed ‘special occasions only’.

Why, oh why did it have to happen to him, of all people? Couldn’t it be that couple by the wall? Or the one next to the toilets? And what the fuck had gotten into Jeremias? Why now? Their relationship worked perfectly, why change it?

‘Martín? I don’t want to push you, you can say no.’

Of course he could. It wasn’t about what he could and couldn’t do, it was about what it meant. Fuck, why did Jeremias have to become so needy? Why did he have to confirm every single worry that Martín had when they first started dating? Jeremias was supposed to be different, that’s why Martín agreed to be his boyfriend.

‘I’m sorry, I have to go.’ He got up and walked in the direction of the exit, but he turned around and threw a few notes onto the table. He hoped it was enough to pay for his meal. He didn’t want to have any more attachments besides the ones he already had.

He walked out of the restaurant and started to wander through the city. He had no idea where to go. Home didn’t seem like a safe place right now. He didn’t want to drink or eat, so he passed all restaurants and bars without even looking at the signs. It would be best to keep moving, yes. Maybe if he walked fast enough, he’d run away.

He only realised where he was going when he reached his destination. A woman leaving the building let him in. He walked to the right floor and knocked at the door of Andrés’ flat.

He didn’t know what he expected him to do. Thrice divorced heterosexual wasn’t probably an expert in gay relationships, so Martín didn’t even consider asking for his advice. He just wanted to be around him right now. Look at his elegant moves, listen to his voice, maybe drink wine with him.

‘Martín! What are you doing here? I thought you were on a date.’

But as Andrés opened the door, Martín’s mind went completely blank. There was a suitcase in the corridor.

‘You’re leaving.’ Martín said, raising his eyes to meet Andrés’. Jeremias and keys were gone from his head.

‘Come inside,’ Andrés stepped back to let him in.

Martín walked into the living room. He could see inside the bedroom through the opened door. There was another suitcase on the bed, the door to the closet was wide open, showing the empty shelves and racks.

‘Why?’ He turned to Andrés. He tried to not sound too disappointed, but couldn’t be sure of the effect. ‘I thought you liked it here.’

Andrés smiled and rolled his eyes as if Martín was a child who asked a very naive question.

‘Oh Martín, the world is too beautiful to stay in one place your whole life, even if it’s as lovely as Palermo.’

Martín nodded, ignoring the weird twist in his stomach.

‘Right. I’ll let you pack then,’ he said and moved towards the door.

‘But I guess you could come with me.’ He heard behind his back. ‘If you want.’

**Author's Note:**

> I love talking to fandom people. Message me on [ Tumblr ](https://oreo-cookies-fan.tumblr.com/)


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